


What's Wrong With a Little Bit of Paint?

by Hero_in_Heels



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Abuse, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Child Abandonment, Drugs, Fluff and Angst, I promise a happy ending, It doesn't get very far but there is Non-Con, Multi, Non-Graphic Violence, Sanders Sides Soulmate Au, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Verbal Abuse, Virgil has got quite the potty mouth, no sex or smut or anything like that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2019-09-15 16:19:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 60,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16936584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hero_in_Heels/pseuds/Hero_in_Heels
Summary: Whatever you draw on your skin appears on your soulmate's skin.Virgil's mom hated soulmates. She taught him that having a soulmate would only ever bring him pain. She taught him that any mention of even the word soulmate would lead to punishment.So he spends his entire life pretending that his soulmates don't even exist, ignoring the bright colors that appear on his skin.It's for the bestBut his soulmates have something to say on the matter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's been done but I wanted to do it too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from Dodie's Paint.
> 
> https://youtu.be/JHl7XPhc82s  
> Check it out, it's really good!

Virgil learns about his soulmates when he’s six, a year after his dad left.

He wakes up in the middle of the night, feeling weird, his hand tingling. Looking down, he finds a blue heart drawn on the back of his hand.

Tilting his head slightly, he stares at the lopsided heart in confusion. He knows for a fact that he didn’t draw that, his mom took away all of his markers the day before when he had drawn all over his arms and face.

Jumping off the bed and wrapping his dark green blanket around his shoulders, he grabs his flashlight off the bedside table. He takes a deep breath and runs through the dark hallway and into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

He quickly turns the bathroom light on and checks behind the shower curtain for monsters, luckily finding none. He turns the sink on and goes to get the bar of soap but he notices something strange and pauses. Right next to the heart is a bright red flower, drawn with eight uneven petals.

That wasn’t there a second ago, he knows it wasn’t. He would’ve seen it.

He stands there for a long time, just staring at the two drawings, confused and wondering where they came from.

Until he literally watches a neat little black star appear on his skin, the word _hello_ following shortly after.

There’s a burst of fear in his chest and he drops the flashlight, it clatters loudly against the ground but Virgil ignores it. He turns and rushes back into the hallway and towards his mom’s room. With a shaky hand, he quickly knocks twice before letting himself in. Hopefully, she won’t be too mad.

“Mommy?”

An annoyed groan comes from under the piles of blankets and a head pops out. “What is it, Virge?” She says, voice low.

“There’s something wrong with me! My skin is talking to me!” He says and she shoots upwards, reaching for him and roughly grabbing his arm in a death grip.

“Let me see.” She examines the drawings for a minute before her face twists and Virgil realizes he’s done something wrong.

“You know I only want what’s best for you, right baby?” She asks and he quickly nods. “All right so you need to listen to me. These drawings are very very bad. People will try and tell you that they're not but they’re lying. These drawings are being made by a person who will only ever hurt you so it’s incredibly important that you never write back, okay?”

He gives her a shaky nod but it doesn’t seem to appease her and her grip tightens causing him to let out a cry.

“Promise me, baby, promise me you will never ever write on your skin.”

“I promise, mommy.” He says, tears streaming down his cheeks. Her face softens and she gently pulls him up onto the bed and into a hug. “That’s good, you’re such a good boy.” She says, kissing the top of his forehead.

She lets go of him and he slinks off the bed. “Hand me my medicine.” She says and he quickly grabs the old shoe box, giving it to her before he closes his eyes, not wanting to watch the needle. He hates needles, they make him want to throw up.

When he opens his eyes, she’s kicking the box under the bed and taking his hand in hers. She lets him sleep in her bed that night but he doesn’t sleep and he’s not sure if she does either. She just seems to lay there, staring up at the ceiling.

The next day she throws out all his shorts and short-sleeved shirts. She tells him, “From now on, you need to hide as much skin as possible, you can’t let anyone else know about the drawings. And you’re not to look at them. You have to ignore the drawings.” He promises that he will and helps her finish throwing away the rest of his clothes. He watches as she throws a red t-shirt with a blue dinosaur into the garbage. That was his favorite shirt.

 

* * *

 

There’s a party in class today and he’s not sure what it's for. He wants to ask the teacher about it but he just can’t seem to do that so instead, he hides in a corner, choosing to just watch instead.

He finds out that he didn’t need to ask anyway when Mr. Anderson calls for the students to sit down on the rug where he reads stories to them. Not wanting to get in trouble, Virgil reluctantly makes his way over, careful to stay as far away from the other kids as he can.

“All right everybody, raise your hands if you know what a soulmate is.” Nearly all of the other kids raise their hands and Virgil suddenly feels incredibly stupid. Is he supposed to know? Did he forget? He only remembers learning their weekly spelling words.

“Okay Emmy, would you like to tell us about soulmates?” He asks and the small girl dressed head to toe in pink excitedly jumps to her feet, enthusiastically nodding her head.

“Daddy says soulmates are your true loves, that they’re your other half. He says that I’m gonna marry mine when I grow up!”

“Very good,” Mr. Anderson says and Emmy sits back down. “Now raise your hand if you’ve ever found drawing or words on your skin.” Every student but Virgil raises his hand. Mom said he wasn’t allowed to talk about it. He doesn't want to upset mom.

Virgil doesn’t like the way Mr. Anderson pauses to look at him. “Okay good, that’s your soulmate. You see whatever you draw on your skin will appear on your soulmate’s skin and whatever they draw will appear on you.” Oh, so his soulmate is the bad person mommy warned him about?

Mr. Anderson keeps talking but Virgil isn’t listening, mom said that people would only lie about it and that he couldn’t trust them so he stops paying attention.

When he gets home that day his curiosity gets the better of him and he asks his mom. “Why are soulmates so bad?”

He immediately regrets it as her face shifts to rage and she grabs his shoulders, shaking him as she screams in his face. “Soulmates will only ever bring you pain!” He gets a beating that night, he does any time he brings up soulmates.

He hears about people who don’t have soulmates so when the kids in his class ask him about his soulmate, he lies and tells them he doesn’t have one. Everyone in his class makes fun of him for it, calling him a soulless freak but he doesn’t mind, they already didn’t like him.

Mr. Anderson requests a meeting with his mom to tell her about the bullying. She smiles throughout the entire meeting. In fact, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her smile as much as she did when Mr. Anderson tells her Virgil doesn’t have a soulmate. Of course, she knows that Virgil is lying but she seems proud of it.

Which confuses Virgil since she always tells him that lying is wrong but it must be okay if it makes her so happy.

And he gets pizza and ice cream that night so it’s gotta be good.

 

* * *

 

He has his very first panic attack when he realizes that there’s three of them. It’s once again late at night and he’s watching them have a conversation in the dim light of his nightlight even though he knows he shouldn't. The one using light blue pen is talking about the story his mama read him that night.

Red sparkly marker speedily appears in messy barely readable handwriting.  _I love that story!_ And Virgil can feel the excitement through the words.

He’s never heard of anyone having more than one soulmate before. This has got to be bad, really really bad.

He’s squeezing his purple stuffed tiger against his chest, tears forcing their way out and onto his face, seeming to fall everywhere. Onto his tiger and onto the blurred writing of his soulmates which only makes him cry more. He can’t stop. He sits there in pain, sobbing and gasping desperately for air for what feels like hours.

And then its over and he can finally breathe.

His head and stomach hurts, eyes stinging painfully and he’s so thirsty but at least he can breathe.

  
He doesn’t tell his mom about that night. He doesn’t want her to know that there’s more of them. He’s terrified of her finding out. She already got so mad when he only had one. Now she’ll probably hate him. Maybe she’ll even leave like dad did. He doesn’t want that to happen.

Having one soulmate was bad enough but what does it say about him that he has three? Maybe the kids at school are right and he’s a freak. Maybe there’s something wrong with him. It always seems to be him. He’s why mom is always so sad.

Mom always hurts him when she catches him looking at the marks and it makes her so upset. He hates upsetting her. He wishes that she could just be happy but he’s always ruining it.

So after a while, he stops looking at his soulmate’s messages altogether. He even showers in the dark to avoid them. He always has his arms and legs covered and he carries around a scarf in case the marks appear in anywhere inconvenient.

It gets easier to ignore the tingling feeling, in fact, when he can’t see the drawings or words he can pretend that they’re just not there and neither are his soulmates.

 

* * *

 

At age ten, he discovers his love for drawing and it makes everything so much easier. He can just focus on the paper and shut out everything else out. It’s surprising but it actually makes him happy, makes everything better.

But then his mom dies.

He’s eleven

He finds her in her bed, puke on the floor next to the bed, staining the beige carpet. He calls for her over and over again but she doesn’t react, she doesn’t move, she doesn’t even scream at him to shut up.

There’s something wrong. He can tell, he can feel it in the air and in his stomach. It makes him want to throw up just like mom did. He should really clean that up but later.

He carefully gets up onto the bed and shakes her as gently as he can.

She feels cold.

He doesn’t think she’s supposed to feel this cold.

There’s a needle still in her arm.

He starts screaming for her to wake up but she doesn’t. He’s crying now but he can’t feel it. He’s not even sure why he’s crying. Yes, he does but he can’t seem to believe it. He thinks he might be dreaming. He grabs the landline she keeps on her bedside table and quickly dials nine one one.

By the time a woman answers the phone, he’s full on sobbing and he can’t stop. She’s trying to calm him down but it’s becoming harder and harder to breathe and he just keeps begging the woman to help.

  
She stays on the phone with him until he hears the sirens and he drops the phone, leaving his mom all alone even though he knows she hates being alone (Sorry. SoRRY. SORRY.) to go and open the door. Two men rush through the front door and he wordlessly points at his mom’s room.

He watches them go inside but he doesn’t follow.

Things get blurry from then on. He vaguely remembers one of the men talking to him but the next thing he knows he’s sitting in the back of a police car. The officer driving occasionally sending him worried glances through the mirror.

He’s sent to a foster home and everything gets so much worse. His mom loved him and only wanted what was best for him but these people seem to hate him. They’re always screaming and hitting him. He spends most of his time with them hiding under his bed, covering his ears and trying to pretend that none of it’s happening, that he’ll open his eyes and he’ll be home and mom will be right there, maybe she'll read him a bedtime story even though they both know he's getting too old for it.

He stays with them for two months until he’s sent away and shipped off to another foster home.

He spends the rest of his adolescence bouncing from foster home to foster home. Some of them aren’t bad but most of them fucking suck. It seems like he always gets stuck with the foster parents with severe anger issues that they love to work through by beating him.

He rarely talks to anyone unless he has to and even then they only ever get one-word replies. He hides from everyone, refusing to talk to anybody at school, acting almost like he’s the only kid at school. He gets a job at at Wendy’s and he fucking hates it but doesn’t complain since he desperately needs the cash.

He’s fucking miserable and all he has is his art. It saves him and protects him, helps him get out of his head and go somewhere else, somewhere better. Without his art, he knows he’d be long gone by now, probably dead in a ditch somewhere. Whenever he isn’t working or doing schoolwork, he’s drawing and it makes life almost bearable.

And it takes far too fucking long but eventually, he turns eighteen and he gets the hell outta there. He moves to a town called Bell Tier, gets a job at the local library cause he swears that he's never doing fast food ever again, and he enrolls in Sanders University. He rents out a shitty cheap ass apartment where the water is always cold and the stove doesn’t even work but it's his and no one else’s.

And he's free.

He’s finally free, free to live the life he wants where he can just stay the fuck away from everybody, they can all just leave him be.

Unfortunately or perhaps fortunately for him, that isn’t how things go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote and rewrote this chapter so many time which really does not bode well for writing the rest of this story but yeah I rewrote and rewrote and it is not getting how I want it so take it how it is. Take this mess, it's your problem now.
> 
> Also I was trying to show a childlike quality so I hope that came across.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn the story of Roman Patton and Logan.
> 
> Warning: A homophobic slur is used once.

It begins in the middle of school, he is barely paying attention, staring out the window at the sunny world outside, watching another class run and play on the playground and he wishes he could join them when Jamie Brown shouts, “Guys, look at Patton!”

He’s surprised when he finds all eyes on him, big and wide with wonder.

He’s even more surprised when he looks down and sees a mess of color spreading across his arms and legs. Blues and silvers and purple, so much purple and in so many different shades. It swirls and curls around his arms, spinning off into countless different patterns. (Or Patton patterns).

He lets out an excited squeal, it’s his soulmate! He has a soulmate! And they can draw such pretty pictures!

His teacher is smiling at him with an amused expression, a knowing look in her eyes. The other students are whispering excitedly, some bouncing up and down, others grabbing markers and drawing on their own skin. Patton just keeps watching drawing twist and turn as he waits to see what his soulmate draws next.

Halfway through drawing what he thinks is supposed to be a sun, his soulmate cuts the sun in half with a messily drawn line and Patton thinks that his soulmate must have slipped but after that there’s nothing else. No more drawings.

And seconds after that, it’s all washed away.

To say he’s disappointed is an understatement but Patton is never one to be sad for long. His soulmate probably just had to go.

He’ll wait to answer in case they’re doing something important.

Okay, truth is he’s nervous and feeling pretty shy.

It takes him an entire day to work up the courage to draw back. He goes for something more simple. A little heart drawn with his favorite blue marker.

Holding his breath, he waits, feeling a mix of anxiety and excitement. It takes a few minutes but eventually he gets a reply in way of a red flower. He’s immediately jumping up and down, unable to contain his enthusiasm.

Then things get weird and confusing as black star and a greeting appear.

Patton tilts his head. Having both drawings happen so close to each other, he’s able to notice the differences. The red one seems louder if that makes any sense. It feels… powerful and passionate. The tingly feeling is faster and stronger.

While the other is more calm and soothing, it feels more like a gentle tap than the excited burst of nerves from before.

He decides to just ask, _Why do you feel different?_

Red marker answers with, _You felt it too?_

Then in black, _I don’t mean to alarm either of you but I believe that there’s three of us._  
Patton lets out a gasp. There… there are two people talking to him right now. He has two soulmates. Two people to love. Two people destined to love him.

Red writes, _I didn’t know you could have more than one soulmate._

 _Me neither but this is great!_ He replies, hoping they agree.

Black, _My fathers say that it is rare but perfectly normal._

A big sparkly red heart appears with the words, _This is amazing!_ Tension that he previously didn’t realize was there filters out from his body and Patton has never felt so relieved before. Logically he knew that soulmates are chosen for you by fate itself and that they’re supposed to love you no matter what but that didn’t stop a small traitorous part of him fearing otherwise.

_My names Patton. What’s yours?_

_Roman._

_And I am Logan._

 

* * *

  

The three boys grow up close, constantly skyping or talking on the phone. It’s tough being a young child and only wanting to be with your soulmates and having them live in two different states but they make it work, visiting each other for the holidays and every single summer.

Things aren’t perfect, the kids at school don’t really like the fact that they have multiple soulmates, calling them faggots and freaks but it’s okay because they have each other.

And they have each other when a twelve-year-old Patton’s dad dies in a car accident.

Roman and Logan go down to Florida and stay with him the whole summer, barely ever leaving his side. He cries the entire time and they do the best they can to be there for him, holding him and comforting him, whispering kind words to him when he wakes late at night and the tears won’t stop. And it’s hard, god is it hard but they get through it.

And then they’re fifteen, Patton and Roman are spread out on Roman’s bed watching Cinderella while Logan sits in a nearby chair reading.

Logan is the first to notice the huge purple paint splatter staining his left forearm. He lets out a soft confused noise, tilting his head slightly. He’s almost certain that wasn’t there earlier and he’s been with Roman and Logan all day, they haven’t been anywhere near any paint.

“What’s up, Lo? You’ve got your thinking face on,” Roman says.

“Do either of you have paint on your arm?”

They both check and they both find the same splash of color. Patton, half asleep gives a giddy smile, “You’ve been painting, Logan?”

“No, I haven’t,” he replies with a frown.

“Roman?” Patton asks and Roman shakes his head. Patton is fully awake now, biting his lip with a baffled expression.

“Guess we just didn’t notice before,” Roman says with a shrug, his voice betraying the nonchalance he’s trying to convey.

“That feels… wrong,” Patton says quietly and he’s proven right when a purple smudge appears across their fingertips. Roman jolts backward, getting to his feet in a rush, hand clutching his right wrist, eyes never leaving the speck of color.

Nobody says anything, eyes too busy staring at each other’s stained fingertips.

“What does this mean?” Roman finally asks.

“Well, logic seems to suggest that we… have a fourth.”

“But… how? And who? And where are they!?” Roman shouts and as angry as he sounds, Patton and Logan both know he’s simply hurting. “And why? Why haven’t they written to us? Why didn’t they answer all those years ago?”

Logan doesn’t have an answer.

He for the life of him cannot begin to imagine why anyone would ignore their soulmates. He jumps to his feet, rushing towards Roman’s computer, typing away, searching for anything like this. He’s never heard of anything like it before but there has to be something.

All he finds is a couple articles about a shy girl with severe social anxiety who only hardly ever replied to her soulmate and even when she did, she only ever drew pictures.

But at least she did something, at least she let him know she existed.

“H-hey, it’s okay. We don’t know why right now but we’ll figure it out when we finally meet them,” Patton says, voice shaky and when Logan looks over, he sees that his eyes are filled with tears and his heart breaks at the sight.

This is so unbelievably wrong.

“You’re right!” Roman says with a strained smile as he grabs his red sparkly gel pen. Right in the middle of his palm, as big as he can, he writes, _Hello, are you there?_

They wait.

And they wait.

Patton draws a smiley face.

Still nothing.

Logan decides to write something as well, going for a more straightforward approach, _We know you’re there, please reply._

The spilled paint washes itself away from their skin, a reply of sorts Logan supposes. Patton is openly crying now and Roman’s eyes are shining with unshed tears.

“Do… do you think they hate us?” Patton asks quietly and Roman is immediately pulling him into a hug and shushing him gently, “No, I’m sure they don’t. I’m sure there’s a good reason.”

“What reason could there possibly be?” Logan asks.

“Maybe they’re shy,” Patton says, voice muffled as he’s still enveloped in Roman’s tight hug.

“Millions of people are shy and they still answer their soulmates!” He knows he’s letting his anger get the best of him but he can’t seem to care enough to reign himself in right in. He knows he should, knows Patton hates it when he gets like this but they have another soulmate! And they’re supposed to be here and they’re not! And he doesn’t know why.

He hates not knowing.

“This sucks, obviously but it won’t suck forever. We’ll figure out how to get them to answer us. It may take a while but I don’t care. We’ll find them and we’ll talk to them and maybe that won’t fix everything but at the very least we’ll figure out why,” Roman says, jaw tense and face determined.

Patton is nodding along. “Ro is right, Logan. I’ve got a good feeling, it’s gonna work out.”

Logan smiles at that, heart flooding with warmth when he looks at his brilliant soulmates. He gives them a nod, deciding not to tell them about the bad feeling he has.

 

* * *

 

They write to him every day, sometimes sweet messages, or random little drawings, whatever stupid little things on their mind. They always tell him good morning and good night but still, he never replies. They’re not even sure if he ever sees it. They hope he does, at least most of the time they do.

Sometimes it makes them feel better to wish that whoever he is, he never actually see their messages. Because sometimes that’s better than imagining that their soulmate doesn’t give a shit about them, that he just heartlessly ignores them even when they desperately beg for him to answer.

Three years pass and still no answer.

They’re not miserable per se, they’re actually pretty happy but every good moment seems to be missing something and they’re all extremely aware of it. Their laughter often dying out as they stare at an empty space, noticing how they’re just a little bit too much room. It’s strange how too much space almost feels claustrophobic.

And there’s always this small black cloud that follows them everywhere they go. It’s always in the back of their mind. Patton will be eating pancakes and he’ll pause to wonder what his mystery soulmate ate for breakfast. But they manage to push to through it, smiling and joking, letting themselves get excited for college. And holy shit, are they excited for college.

Finally, they can be together. Finally, they can be in a normal relationship, in fact, Roman has already extensively planned out fourteen dates for them. If they want to see each other, they can just pop by each other’s dorm room instead of having to skype.

Finally, their lives feel like they are beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh I seriously hate the way this chapter came out but I didn't want to make you guys wait. Cause honestly I did not expect anybody to read my fic so thank you so so much and I hope you enjoyed the chapter. 
> 
> I plan on the plot to really get started next chapter


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil gets a call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I did something crazy and probably really freaking annoying and I'm sorry. But I really didn't like the way chapter three turned out so I rewrote a lot of it and added important plot points so you may want to reread it. Sorry, know that's annoying. Also I wrote chapter four and it has a lot of new and import plot but it also has a scene I took out of chapter three and put in chapter four. Chapter Five is completely new stuff. Again sorry, hope you enjoy.
> 
> If you're new to this story though just ignore all this, it won't affect you.

Virgil didn’t sleep all night.

He just laid on the old ratty mattress on the floor, staring up at his ceiling, watching the shadows dance across his ceiling, his anxiety thrumming through him.

He has his first class in two hours.

It doesn’t really feel real.

Honestly, he didn’t think he’d make it this far, figured he’d probably end up dead in a ditch somewhere long before he got here. But he didn’t, he’s here and he’s alive.

And he’s going to have to go to spend an hour in a room filled with loud people who might try to talk to him. And what if he doesn’t understand anything in his classes? What if he can’t do it? He’s a complete wreck, there’s no way he’s cut out for this.

He’s almost positive that his time at college is going to go up in flames but that doesn’t mean he’s not gonna try. He can regret it later. In fact, he almost definitely will regret it later but that is future Virgil’s problem.

Right now he’s going to force himself to get up despite how exhausted he is and take a shower. He runs out of hot water in minutes so he quickly finishes up before wrapping himself up in as many layers as he can, grabbing his over-sized hoodie with the much too long arms and he throws an extra scarf and pair of gloves into his backpack just to be safe. He is not dealing with the stares this early on.

And it’s his little way of honoring his mom.

The walk to the university isn’t long but he takes his sweet time in an attempt to avoid his responsibilities just a little bit longer. And this way he can enjoy the way the leaves have changed color and fallen, coating the sidewalk. He steps on them and they make a satisfying crunch.

The sky is nice and cloudy so luckily doesn’t have to deal with any bright sunlight glaring down at him and blinding him, making all the black he’s wearing unbearably hot. Of course, even if that were to happen, he wouldn’t change clothes. He likes the black and he’s not willing to wear anything else. All other colors suck.

He gets to the university far too soon for his liking but that’s life, isn’t it?

People run by him, shouting and screaming and he immediately misses his nice quiet apartment where he doesn’t have to deal with crowds. He follows his map to room 246, luckily finding only a few people inside.

Virgil chooses to sit in the far back of his class, hiding away in the corner, twenty minutes early but better being early than late and fucking everything up. If he this up then he loses his scholarship and he’s really screwed cause there’s no way he’ll be able to pay for his college. He’ll get kicked out and have to work a shitty job for the rest of his life and he can’t let that happen. He can’t let everyone who has ever said a bad word about him end up being right. He may be an irredeemable fuckup but he can at the very least prove the jackasses who thought he’d amount to nothing wrong and he'll do it out of spite, motherfucker. 

Students are starting to file in, taking their seats, talking loudly to each other and disturbing whatever small bit of peace he managed to find.

His class goes on much too long and he understood barely anything the professor was droning on about. God, he’s so screwed. He’s going to have to do so much fucking studying if this class is how it’s always gonna be.

All of his classes go basically the same way. He knows he’s jumping to assumptions, it’s only been a few days but he’s pretty sure all of his professors are complete assholes.

Three of his professors have for whatever reason zoned in on him and despite all of his attempts to hide away and not be noticed, have decided to pick him nearly every time they ask the class a question. He knows he doesn’t give off the best vibe, often mistaken as a troublemaker but this just seems unfair.

And it goes on for weeks. He thinks he gets about five hours of sleep total and he’s basically running off caffeine. It’s not healthy but he’ll take a break when he has the time. Right now, he has essays to write and exams to study for and he doesn’t have enough time to do any of that because he has a shift in an hour. He could call in sick but he needs to pay his rent soon and he’s not sure he’ll have enough if he doesn’t go.

He lets out a sound that’s something between a sigh and a groan cause he can’t even fucking work his mouth right. Though he’s not entirely sure if that’s because he’s a useless mess or cause of the lack of sleep. Maybe it’s both.

He throws the textbooks he was reading onto his bed and races out of his apartment, he took a few extra minutes for some extra studying but that means he’s gonna have to _book_ it to get to the library on time. God, that was a fucking stupid joke, he’s so lame.

He makes it to the library exactly on time, he’d had preferred to get there early but when does he ever get anything he wants. He notices a bright orange pumpkin made out of construction paper, informing about some Halloween party Virgil doesn't remotely care about. 

The blonde who always works before him that he’s known the entire time he’s worked here and still doesn’t know her name, give him a wave as she walks out. He’s really gotta figure out what her name is, it’s shitty of him to still not know but it’s far too late to ask now, he's in too deep.

Work goes by slowly and stressfully, someone fucking put nearly all the books on the wrong shelf so he spends hours reorganizing them. Then some bitch starts throwing a hissy fit because the book she needs isn’t here which is so fucking unfair because what the hell is he supposed to do something when the book is already fucking checked out but he grits his teeth, forces a smile on his lips, and politely takes all the screaming while he imagines bashing the heaviest book in the library against her head.

It starts getting later and luckily most people either leave or are too busy with their heads stuffed in their books to be a nuisance. They’re probably all studying for exams like he should be doing but instead, he’s standing at the counter doing absolutely nothing and wasting the little time he has.

A guy he sees here literally all the time that he’s starting to suspect just straight up lives here makes his way over to check out with a large pile of books. His dark brown hair styled neatly as per usual and he wears a polo shirt and a tie which Virgil has always thought was just a little bit weird. What kind of college kid wears a tie?

There’s a shorter guy bouncing after him, his blonde hair shaking wildly with his movement.“Come on, Lo Lo, hurry up! Roman is waiting for us!” He says with a beaming smile and bright blues eyes shining with excitement. The two of them seem like polar opposites but they look happy together.

“You knew I would take a long time, I needed to find the right books for my project.”

“You’re right, I guess I’m only got _myshelf_ to blame,” he says, excitedly, and despite himself, Virgil lets out a snort which only makes the boy smile harder. The other boy makes an annoyed groan but that doesn’t stop his shorter friend.

“Hey, why does an elephant use a bookmark?” He asks as Virgil starts scanning their books.

  
“I don’t know, why?” He asks, deciding to play along even though he’s not entirely sure why. Maybe he just like this guy’s smile, it’s sweet.

“So he always _nose_ when he stopped reading!” Virgil lets out another small laugh right as he finishes up with their books.

The taller one immediately starts piling them into his backpack before offering his arm to the happy jumpy one, “Shall we?”

“Yeah but we better _book_ it or else we’re gonna be late,” he says, taking his partner’s arm before leaving and Virgil decides that it’s not that bad of a joke, in fact, it was kind of nice when that sweet stranger said it.

 

* * *

 

Virgil is doing research on Emily Dickinson when his phone starts ringing. The only people who ever call him is work which probably means someone wants him to cover their shift which shit.

He sighs before grabbing his phone and putting on a friendly voice, “Hello, this is Virgil.”

There’s a strange intake of air before a broken voice speaks, “Virgil?” Yes, that is what he just said.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“My god, your voice. You sound so grown,” a man’s voice says, emotional and like he’s on the brink of tears. Virgil is of course immediately and extremely uncomfortable with this turn of events. He shifts his body into the corner, wanting something solid to lean against as he tries to think of the best way to end this conversation and avoid this stranger’s out of nowhere burst of emotions.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know you. I think you’ve got the wrong number.”

“This is Virgil Knight correct?”

Virgil makes a confused choking type sound, pulling the phone away from his ear to read the screen once again. The hell? He hasn’t heard that name in ages. That was his dad’s last name, mom got it changed after he left. Why the hell is someone calling him by that name!? Is this some fucking insane coincidence? Is a simple accident where some random legal document out there still has that as his name?

Virgil's got a very bad feeling.

“I think there’s been some mistake, that’s not my name.” Never should have been.

“Yes, of course, I’m sorry. They say you go by Amelia’s maiden name now.” Virgil goes rigid, blood turning cold and there’s a loud noise like a raging river echoing in his ear, making it hard to hear anything outside his own spiraling thoughts.

No one has said her name out loud to him since he was a child.

Too afraid to mention, too afraid to bring up painful memories, too afraid of causing him further grief for his mother,

“Who is this?” He asks, voice shaking, hands shaking, hell everything is shaking, even the room looks like it’s shaking but that might just be the oncoming panic attack.

“Henry… your uh, your father. It’s your father.”

He hangs up.

Who the hell does he think he is!? Calling now!? Fucking now!? Does he actually think he can just take off for thirteen years and then show up again like he didn’t leave as Virgil watched from the porch? Is this him trying to make good on his fucking broken promise?

_I have to go now, Virgil but I promise you’ll see me soon. We can talk on the phone and I’ll write._

Too fucking late, jackass.

If he didn’t leave then mom wouldn’t have fallen apart. A lot of it was Virgil’s fault, he knows that but that fucking dickhead destroyed her. She wouldn’t have turned to drugs if he would have just fucking stayed there for her.

That man is fucking proof that goddamn soulmates don’t work, that all they do is fucking hurt you. Everyone says that they’re supposed to complete you and all that bullshit. They say that they’re supposed to love you no matter what but he just fucking ditched Virgil’s mom.

He has no idea what the hell that piece of shit wanted or how he even fucking got Virgil’s cell phone but he doesn’t give a shit because that man does not deserves even a moment of Virgil’s time. And that’s never going to fucking change.

He’ll die before ever talking to that douche-bag again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed and weren't too annoyed by these changes. I promise I will never pull something like this again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nooww Shit goes down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I did something crazy and probably really freaking annoying and I'm sorry. But I really didn't like the way chapter three turned out so I rewrote a lot of it and added important plot points so you may want to reread it. Sorry, know that's annoying. Also I wrote chapter four and it has a lot of new and import plot but it also has a scene I took out of chapter three and put in chapter four. Chapter Five is completely new stuff. Again sorry, hope you enjoy.
> 
> If you're new to this story though just ignore all this, it won't affect you. 
> 
>  
> 
> Warning:  
> Attempted Rape/Non-con  
> Self-hatred  
> Dark thoughts  
> Slight self-harm

His phone hasn’t stopped ringing.

And it makes Virgil want to scream.

Instead he just calmly watches it ring and ring and ring until it ends and he has another voicemail he immediately deletes.

Virgil doesn’t want to hear what he has to say. Truthfully, there is a small twinge of curiosity buried deep inside that makes him feel sick but he refuses to let that curiosity get the better of him. He thinks listening to the voicemails will hurt more than just leaving himself with just a bit of wondering.

He ends up just turning his phone on vibrate and going to work, determinedly ignoring his problems, pretending that it isn’t fucking happening cause it might as well not be since he’s never gonna fucking talk to him.

He quickly regrets having a shift today when he enters the library building and finds a large crowd and is hit with the sound of at least three kids crying and lots of different conversations being whispered throughout the room.

Blonde hair pulled up into a ponytail and green eyes meet with a great big smile. “Hey Virgil, did you know that there’s some event going on? I sure didn’t, show up to work and suddenly I’m setting up chairs,” she says with a laugh and Virgil is currently feeling pretty guilty about still not knowing her name.

“No, no one told me anything.”

“Well, at least we’re in the same boat. I think it’s some author coming to read their book or something,” she says before the two of them head into the back, Virgil personally hiding from all the people. “Hey, will you help me organize the books from the drop off box?”

He gives her a nod and she flashes him a grateful smile. Ignoring the vibrations from his phone and the loud crowd he starts sorting the books into separate piles.

“You’re the best,” she says and they enter a nice silent rhythm of work letting Virgil disappear into his head and thoughts.

Now what he said earlier is true, he wants nothing to with the man he once called a father and he doesn’t have any interest in what he has to say but that doesn’t stop him from questioning every bit of information he has.

He sounded like he was upset when he called. He sounded like he was crying. Maybe he was trying to manipulate Virgil into giving him something. Maybe he was trying to play one of his weird-ass mind games. Mom always said he like manipulation and mind games, loved messing with her.

It makes him sick that anyone liked to hurt his mom.

Hmm, maybe he should answer his phone just so he can find the jackass and punch him square in his face, maybe break his goddamn nose.

No, bad idea, bad idea.

Knowing his luck he’d get arrested for assault or some shit.

A voice pulls him out of his thoughts, “Hey, I just realized I know next to nothing about you. We should change that since we work together so much and might as well enjoy work as much as we can.”

He looks up from a young adult paranormal romance that looks really fucking bad that he was just about to sort to find the blonde girl watching him with a smile. Is she just always smiling? Is she one of those people? She doesn’t seem like it but she sure is smiling a lot.

“Okay?”

“Tell me something about yourself.”

“Like what?" He asks.

“We can start simple. What’s your favorite color? Is it black? I bet it’s black.” Normally he’d probably be offended but she says it, voice kind and not at all sounding judgmental.

He decides to be honest. “No actually, I really like purple.”

“Oh cool, I like orange but like a nice soft orange.”

They continue working, going back and forth asking each other questions for a few hours. Her favorite animal is something called sugar glider and she loves cheese an unhealthy amount. She met her soulmate, Greg, when she was twelve. He knows he gets weirdly silent at the point in the conversation, scowling slightly and she quickly changes the conversation to her dog, Buddy.

Eventually, her shift comes to an end and as she waves him goodbye, she says, “Well, it was really cool getting to know you, Virge. By the way, I’m Silvia, I know you don’t know my name, I never actually introduced myself though so don’t feel bad.” And then she’s gone, pulling out a skateboard and skating away.

His boss comes in and orders him to help out at the event, he leaves the nice peaceful backroom to find the crowd circling around a woman with dark red hair, standing on a small wooden stage and reading from a great big blue book in her hands. He blocks out her words, not caring to listen and when her voice starts to sound a bit scratchy, his boss tells him to go get her some water and he does, making his way to the vending machines in the basement.

Ugh, the basement.

He fucking hates the basement.

And yeah okay, he knows it’s a fucking stupid childish fear but there’s something so goddamn creepy about the library’s basement. First of all, it’s big, like insanely big. And there’s no books or computers or anything down here so there’s almost never any reason for anybody to be down here so it’s fucking empty as a… super empty thing. Oh god, he really fucking needs some sleep so he can have some better analogies.

Another reason the place is so fucking ominous is that nearly all the lights have gone out and no one has bothered to replace them.

It takes him a few minutes to get through the eerily long hallways in this maze-like basement but eventually he gets to the vending machines which are placed at such a weird fucking place. They should be upstairs like by the front doors or something where people will actually see them and use them and not get super fucking lost trying to find them. But whatever, he doesn’t make the decisions, he’s just here to reorganize and reorganize and reorganize.

But hey, at least he gets paid.

Rather lamely and probably looking like a real fucking idiot, he races back upstairs, not wanting to be down in the basement any longer.

He awkwardly pushes himself through the crowd and he realizes that the event must’ve ended cause the crowd is dispersing. Putting on his three years of working at Wendy’s customer service face and taps the woman on the shoulder.

She turns around with a smile on her face and what is up with all the smiling today? He shyly offers her the water bottle and somehow her smile gets even bigger. “Thanks, I’m quite parched after all that talking,” she says before quickly ripping off the lid and gulping it down.

In between drinks, she looks him up and down and asks, “What’s your name?”

“Uh, I’m Virgil.”

She chokes on her drink, eyes widening with surprise. She was looking at him with mild interest before but now it’s like he’s a book or a poem and she needs to analyze everything about him. It’s honestly unnerving and suddenly he’s very uncomfortable.

“Well, it was nice meeting you but I’ve got to get back to work. Have a nice day,” he says with a wave and a fake smile plastered on his face. He leaves before she can say anything else, escaping to the far end of the library, hiding away in a corner and reorganizing the books there.

 

* * *

 

It’s late and just after one am when he finally gets off, the walk is long and cold. Despite him wearing his hoodie, scarf, and gloves, he’s still freezing and it’s leaving him in a sour mood. He prefers cold weather over hot but this still fucking sucks.

The wind is blowing roughly, slamming against him and making him almost lose his balance a few times, his clothes seemingly gained a mind of their own as they spin crazily in the wind. He can barely hear anything over the loud howling wind, leaves flying through the air and hitting against him.

It’s so dark he can barely see in front of him.

It’s so dark and so loud, he doesn’t notice the large man following behind him.

And by the time he realizes what’s happening, his arm is being yanked backward and he’s roughly thrown to the ground, landing on his side before the man kicks his stomach and Virgil lets out a cry. He kicks him again and again and Virgil hears a crack before the man pulls him to his feet and painfully shoves him against the brick building Virgil was walking by.

There’s a hand wrapping tightly around his throat and Virgil notices a knife in the man’s other hand.

The man is a couple feet taller than him, trapping him with his horrifyingly huge beefy body and leaving no options of escape. “Wallet. Now.” Tears streaking down his cheeks, he shakily reaches into his pocket and hands the man what he asked for.

This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. Oh my god, this can’t be happening. This is just his fucking luck. Why can’t the universe give him one goddamn break!? Oh god, what if this is where he dies!? This fucking place! He’s supposed to prove those fuckers wrong not right! This is fucking bullshit!

“Not much in here, is there?” Virgil’s heart sinks because he knows there’s basically nothing in there. A couple dollars and his driver's license. There’s no way that’s gonna be enough to get this guy away from him. Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god. Why? Why? Why? Why is this happening to him? Why can’t he be anywhere else? He knows he’s a shitty person but there’s no way he deserves to get fucking murdered.

“Doesn’t seem like this was worth it if I only get a dollar or two,” he whispers in Virgil’s ear and chills rack themselves through him. “You’re a pretty little thing though.”

No.

“Despite the whole emo fucker thing you’ve got going on.”

“I gave you my wallet now get off of me,” Virgil says, well more begs.

He squeezes tighter around Virgil’s throat causing him to thrash in a panic, it makes no difference. He’s so much stronger than Virgil. “Hmm, I don’t think I will. Wallet wasn’t enough, you owe me more.”

His hand slides under his shirt, the knife cold against his skin but the man’s touch so much worse. He leans in closer to Virgil, pressing sloppy open-mouthed kisses against his collarbone, his tongue swirling around his skin and Virgil lets out a terror-filled cry, desperately flailing around and kicking his legs.

He squeezes even tighter than before and keeps it like that for a while causing Virgil to see black spots dancing across his vision. When he finally loosens his grip slightly Virgil is left in a coughing fit as the man’s lips travel up his throat and onto his jaw.

No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no.

He can’t breathe and it’s not because of the hand on his throat.  
“Please stop,” he begs and he hates himself for it.

“Shh, it’ll be over soon and then I’ll let you go.”

“No,” he croaks.

It gets so much fucking worse when the man spread his legs a bit before grinding down on Virgil’s front. It’s the absolute worst thing to ever happen to Virgil. He’d do anything to be anywhere else right, back with his mom’s dead body, watching his dad drive away. Hell, he’d back to his worst foster family where they nearly beat him to death. He’d take anything over this.

As terrible as it is, the new position leaves Virgil’s legs freer so he lifts his foot slightly before violently kicking him in the shin. The man lets out a pained groan before letting go of him and giving Virgil the chance to push against his chest, causing the man to fall to cement.

The knife against his stomach slices into his skin but he doesn’t care as he runs, runs faster than he’s ever run in his entire life and he doesn’t stop until he reaches his apartment.

His hand is shaking up a storm as he unlocks his door before throwing himself inside and slamming it shut, locking it tightly. In his panic, he grabs the only bit of furniture he has, his table and pushes it up against the door, making it so no one can get in.  
It doesn’t make him feel any safer.

He can’t breathe. He keeps reminding himself that he’s okay and safe and in his apartment, that the door is locked but that doesn’t make him feel any better. He’s still fucking terrified and he can’t breathe. He feels like somehow that man must’ve followed him and that he’ll break in through the door any second now and oh god, he can’t breathe.

There’s this painful throbbing throughout his whole body and he can’t stop crying and his thoughts just won’t fucking stop. Please just stop thinking, you’re only making it worse. It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine. Nothing happened, it’s fine, he stopped that man before it got too far. But what if he hadn’t? He would’ve… that man would’ve… oh god. No, that doesn’t matter, that does not fucking matter because it didn’t fucking happen.

It’s over. It’s over. It’s over.

His phone is vibrating again and it’s like he can feel it moving throughout his bones and stabbing into his skull and suddenly he’s filled with such a rage. He grabs his phone and looks at it, seeing that fucking annoying phone number that won’t stop fucking calling him and lets out a furious cry and with all his strength, he throws it at the nearest wall. It shatters and cracks into a thousand little pieces. It’s not enough. He wants to break something else. He wants to break that son of a bitch’s goddamn face. Watch his skull cave in.

He realizes that there’s spit all over his neck and shoulder and he just starts crying harder.

  
He turns and runs to his bathroom, making the shower as hot as possible before jumping in, still clothed. The water burns against but he wholeheartedly welcomes it. He needs to get it off. He needs to get that man’s touch away from him.

He starts desperately ripping his clothes off, leaving them in a sopping puddle at the bottom of his shower before grabbing the bar of soap and aggressively rubbing his skin. He needs to get it off. It scrubs and scrubs, his skin turning red and raw but he doesn’t stop. He needs to fucking get it off.

Not fair. Not fair. Not fair. Why did this happen? Why does this always have to happen!? Why can’t one fucking good thing happen to him!? No! Why can’t he just be left the fuck alone for once in his godforsaken life!? Why the fuck is he even here!? Just to be a fucking joke? A puppet for fucked up shit to happen to again and again and again and-

Why isn’t the soap fucking working?

No matter how hard he scrubs, he can still feel him. Feel his hand wrapping around his throat, feel his tongue on his skin, his hand trailing across his stomach.

Virgil throws up.

He throws the useless fucking piece of soap to the floor, not like there was much left anywhere, he’d practically used it all even though he only bought it yesterday.

His hands are shaking.

They won’t stop fucking shaking.

He grabs his left arm roughly in an attempt to stop the shaking, it only makes it worse, reminding him of the way that man grabbed him.

Weak. Pitiful. Stupid. His fault!

He lets out a choked out sob. He just keeps making it worse. He makes everything worse.

  
A sharp pain pierces through the haze of pain and self-hate and utter fucking terror, he looks down to find that he’s clawed five large marks vertically down his forearm. He cries even more. He deserves it. He deserves all of this, doesn’t he? He ruined his mom. She probably would be happy and healthy and alive if it weren’t for him. It’s always him.

Suddenly there’s a fluttery tingling feeling across his thigh, he looks down to find bright red sparkly words and drawings. Roses and hearts spilling across each other in a beautiful pattern and the words, _I’ve always been the impatient type and honestly, I hate this but I’m willing to wait, we all are._

He throws up again before tumbling out the shower, grabbing a pile of clothes that rest on the floor, quickly throwing on a t-shirt and pair of shorts he’s never worn before. Mom would be so mad at him for even thinking about wearing something like this but he can’t handle the restricting clothes right now, he needs to feel free.

He lets himself fall down onto his mattress, hugging his knees to his chest and wrapping every blanket and sheet he has around him.

The tingly feeling returns and normally he ignores it but for some reason, he really fucking needs to look.

He finds a small paragraph appearing in blue right by the claw marks, it’s hard to read around the cuts and blood but he manages.

_We went on a date today, I had a great time! But it was missing something, it was missing you. I can’t wait to meet you and find out what you’re like, I’m sure you’re amazing._

They seem so kind and good and that doesn’t make any fucking sense. It contradicts everything his mom ever told him. And if they’re amazing then why the hell did they get stuck with him?

Maybe mom was wrong, maybe his soulmates aren’t the bad ones.

Maybe it’s him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed and sorry for any confusion or annoyance with the changes. I promise I won't pull anything like this again.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil deals with the aftermath.  
> Roman and Patton and Logan's story finally begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I did something crazy and probably really freaking annoying and I'm sorry. But I really didn't like the way chapter three turned out so I rewrote a lot of it and added important plot points so you may want to reread it. Sorry, know that's annoying. Also I wrote chapter four and it has a lot of new and import plot but it also has a scene I took out of chapter three and put in chapter four. Chapter Five is completely new stuff. Again sorry, hope you enjoy.
> 
> If you're new to this story though just ignore all this, it won't affect you.

He’s fine, really he is.

Yeah, his neck is swollen and covered in bruises and it hurts to breathe. And there’s a huge stinging cut going diagonally across his stomach from the bottom of his left ribs and all the way to his right hip bone. And his back won’t stop aching and he’s pretty sure he cracked a rib or something but that’s okay, really it is, it could’ve been so much worse. If anything he should be counting himself lucky. At least he was able to escape before anything more could happen, so many other people in the world don’t get off so easily.

And he’s had way worse injuries before, this is nothing compared to before.

And okay, he didn’t sleep all night but that’s nothing new, he never gets any sleep anyway. Of course, he normally spends that time studying and working on his essays and upcoming projects instead of just staring at the words of his soulmates.

Such kind words, so accepting and forgiving.

How can they seem so… so good?

It doesn’t make any sense.

Ugh, he shouldn’t be wasting so much fucking time moping and acting like he’s got it so bad when people are literally starving to death. He’s got essays to write and exams to study for. He can’t let this… little incident get in the way of school. He won’t allow it. He’s got too much riding on this.

He spends hours on his schoolwork, ignoring the way his hands still shake and the way he still can’t get that man’s touch out of his head and the way he whispered in his ear.

**You’re a pretty little thing though.**

Stop it, Virgil

**Wallet wasn’t enough, you owe me more.**

You’re just making it out to be worse than it is, you’re fine, it’s fine, it’s over.

**Shh, it’ll be over soon and then I’ll let you go.**

He trudges on with his work despite how close he feels to a panic attack. It’s fine, he’s fine. He refuses to be anything other than fine because he can’t fucking afford to not be fine, he has too much work and he can’t let anything get in the way.

Days pass, he stops taking late shifts and his teachers all tell him how impressed with his work they are. Which is good, this is good, it doesn’t matter that he feels like he’s drowning.

 

* * *

 

He’s been doing something bad.

He’s been looking at his soulmates’ writing.

He knows it’s wrong, he knows he should stop. His mom would be so disappointed, she’d be heartbroken and he’s supposed to be making her proud. Going to college, getting a job, that was all supposed to be her. It was his weak attempt of making up for what he did to her.

And he knows what happens when you meet your soulmate. Just look at what happened to mom and that jackass. They leave you and they break your heart.

But watching the words appearing on his skin is the only time he ever feels remotely okay. It makes him feel like for once in his fucking life, he can breathe just a little bit, like he’s not going to just drop dead any second now.

God, he’s such a fucking piece of shit.

He’s so selfish.

He needs to stop.

He tells himself that every night, that this has to be the last time he looks but then he does it again and again. He needs to be better.

But he can’t seem to stop, every time he feels that familiar tingling he immediately rushes to look and see what they wrote. The only times he doesn’t look right away is when he’s in public and even then he’s always searching for his quickest possible escape so he can look.

He’s currently locked himself away in a bathroom because the curiosity was just too much. Written in black he finds, _Did you know Neptune takes 164.79 years to make one orbit around the sun which means it has only made one obit since its discovery in 1846._

Virgil has come to realize that the one who always writes with crisp neat handwriting in black pen is quite smart, they’re constantly telling him interesting facts and writing down math equations Virgil couldn’t hope to begin to understand.

The one who writes in red is extremely different, they always draw large elegant drawings, often roses and hearts. They’re always sending him poems and Disney quotes, lines from musicals Virgil had to look up.

Virgil’s third soulmate, the one who always writes in blue and the one who writes to him the most is definitely an interesting person. They’re constantly writing to him and he’s not sure how on earth he was able to ignore it before. With their words comes a warm happy fluttery feeling that he’s quickly become addicted to. They seem to spend almost every minute of the day, jotting down random thoughts or just what they’re doing at the moment, and always telling him to have a good day.

Sometimes they ask him how he is.

Sometimes he lets himself wonder what he would say in return. Would he tell them how he stares at tall buildings and dreams of himself jumping off them and landing on the ground in a bloody broken mess? Or would he lie to them like he lies to everyone else? Probably.

Do they ask only out courtesy or do they genuinely want to know? The few who ever bothered to check if he was okay only ever asked out of courtesy, they didn’t really care so why would his soulmates? He’s ignored them for years, they should hate him. They probably do.

How could they not?

Blue smiley faces appear next to the words in black ink and he finds himself laughing.  
They always seem so happy, he wonders if it’s an act or just really how they are. He can’t imagine ever being so happy but it feels right coming from them.

Another reason he should stop this.

If they really are as great and amazing and happy as they seem, he’s just going to ruin it, ruin them, just like he does everything, just like he did to his mom. It’s like they each stand on a tower far up above him happy and in the sunlight and he’s down below in this miserable darkness. If he keeps doing this, he’s going to tear them down with him.

He can’t let that happen.

But he also can’t stop looking.

 

* * *

 

Honestly, Roman’s time at college has been pretty boring so far. It’s been great being able to spend more time with Patton and Logan but after watching so many movies with a college setting he was definitely expecting more. Some adventure and drama. But so far it’s only really been textbooks and papers.

Right now he sits at his desk, re-reading the mess that is his English paper. His roommate who he has probably exchanged a total of eight words with is currently out while Patton and Logan are spread out on his bed. Logan is reading a book the size of Roman’s head while Patton is curled up asleep in his lap.

It’s a lovely peacefulness that he loves and knows he should be appreciating but right he just feels so inexplicably antsy, almost wanting to just jump to his feet and run a mile or something. Instead, he lets out a groan, pushing his chair away and pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes. If he has to spend another single second staring at his computer screen he’s going to spontaneously combust.

“Are you all right, Roman?” Logan asks, the book he was reading resting on Patton’s back.

  
“Yep, just losing my mind, no biggie.”

“Perhaps a break will do you well. Too long spent staring at a bright screen is never good one's eyes nor their mind.”

“You’re right, I think I shall go for a walk!” He shouts and with a wave of his hand, he’s up and heading towards the door. “You want to come?”

“No, I’ll stay with Patton,” he says, gesturing to the sleeping boy. “But remember to bring your phone in case of an emergency.” Roman gives him a quick nod, grabbing his cell before heading out and locking the door behind him.

It’s a nice cool night outside, the stars shining bright and making the world take on an almost silver, like a thin veil on top of everything and changing the way he sees them. It’s a romantic time, perfect for a love story, the air even has an almost sweet taste to it making him realize how hungry he is.

He decides to stop by the cafeteria and grab something small to snack on. He’d recently eaten dinner with Patton and Logan so he doesn’t need much or anything heavy.

It’s a fifteen-minute walk and he tremendously enjoys the walk to the cafeteria, getting out and away from his computer was exactly what he needed. He feels much more relaxed and free. He should take Logan and Patton on a walk like this sometime, he’s positive that they’ll love it as much as him.

He gets to the large brick building and quickly swings the door open, getting hit with a strong wave of various delicious smells. The place is practically deserted which makes sense considering the time.

The only people here are the workers and a girl in the biggest puffiest winter coat he’s ever seen and a boy in a dark black hoodie who has fallen asleep on top of a huge textbook on the other side of the room. The girl is already on her way out so it’s just him and the sleeping boy.

Roman swiftly walks over to the coffee shop, flashing the barista a great big smile and ordering a hot chocolate and a cinnamon roll.

The barista works quickly and in a few minutes he’s got his order and is taking a sip of rich hot cocoa and heading out.

At least he attempts to leave but it doesn’t end up going very well. As when he’s walking by the slumbering boy he trips over a chair, knocking it over so it loudly clatters against the shiny floor and making him fall over, barely saving his food and drink.

The boy wakes with a jolt, wide eyes fearfully roaming around until they land on Roman and he lets out a relieved sigh once he realizes what’s happened. In a quiet voice, probably not even meaning for Roman to hear, “Oh.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you,” Roman calls.

The boy’s face shifts into a grumpy scowl as he begins packing his books away into his black backpack. He looks out the window, into the night and his face falls, nervously pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Are you alright?” Roman asks.

Voice soft and slightly shaky, “Uh, yeah, I just didn’t realize that… it was so late.” He runs a hand through his messy hair, ruffling it around even further. It causes Roman a warm happy feeling in his heart, making him want to laugh.

“How long were you asleep?” Roman asks as the two of them make their way to the door but the quiet stranger freezes one they reach the door, eyes wide and staring out into the dark.

“Last I knew it was still light out.”

“Yikes, hope you didn’t miss anything.”

“No… no, I had no plans. It’s just that…” he trails off and Roman gets the feeling that he doesn’t want to finish that sentence.

“Don’t like walking at night?” Roman asks, doing his best to sound as gentle as possible.

Pink spreads across the boy’s cheeks and Roman simply puts on his friendliest smile in return. “Hey, don’t worry about it. My soulmate, Patton is the same way. Hates walking alone in the dark. I always walk with him. If you want, I can walk you.”

The boy looks him over, clearly nervous and trying to decide whether he can trust Roman. He looks like he wants to say no but he looks back outside and the idea of walking alone must seem worse because he gives Roman a shy nod.

“Cool, I’m Roman, it’s nice to meet you.”

He starts nervously chewing on his lip again so Roman quickly says, “Don’t worry, you don’t have to tell me your name.” The relief on his face is obvious, tense shoulders dropping.

The boy stays a foot or two away from him as they walk, hands clutched together tightly and looking like he’s trying to disappear into his hoodie.

Roman decides to try and be friendly to make him feel as comfortable as possible, blathering on and on about random nonsense, “I love to act, in fact, there’s talk that the drama department is putting on a play and if they do, I’m absolutely going to audition. To me, nothing’s better than being up on that stage.” It getting colder and windier, making Roman’s face feel numb but he doesn’t mind. Unlike Patton who loves the warmth of the sun Roman surprisingly actually likes the cold.

“That’s nice,” the boy says, looking down at his feet and refusing to make eye contact.

Roman is about to reply when a bright green star appears on the boy’s cheekbone. “Oh hey, I think your soulmate is trying to get your attention,” he says, pointing at his face. The boy frowns, hand rushedly reaching up to cover the small drawing. It reminds Roman of his fourth soulmate, the one he can't help but be so angry at. There's a teensy weensy part of him that hates them even though he knows that wrong. 

Roman keeps talking but the shy boy doesn’t add anything else to the conversation, the frown never leaving his lips and he never drops his hand to stop covering the mark. The entire walk, he never looks up from his feet. 

He walks him to an old apartment building by campus and the boy hastily rushes inside without another word.

Roman thinks that he could’ve at least said thank you but shrugs it off, he was clearly quite uneasy and was probably just relieved to home and safe.

It doesn’t take Roman long to get back to his dorm, feeling tired from all the walking. Once walking inside his room, he drops the empty hot chocolate cup into the trashcan and drops onto his bed, next to Logan whose face is buried in his book. Patton is nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Pat?”

“Bathroom.”

A few minutes later, Patton comes back, a bright green star drawn on his cheek.

Roman lets out a confused squeak, gaining the attention of both his soulmates. “Roman?” Patton asks confused and Logan lowers his book to reveal he too has the green star.

“Your face. You have a green star,” he chokes out, mouth dry and throat closing up.

  
“Oh yeah, I couldn’t find my usual blue, there was only this green marker,” Patton says, waving the marker around. Roman jumps to his feet and runs into the bathroom where he’s met with his reflection where he finds a green star on his face.

“Holy shit,” he says, breathless.

“Roman? What is it? What’s wrong?” Logan asks, coming into the bathroom with Patton following close.

“I saw someone with this exact green star,” he says quietly and almost trance-like, unable to pull his eyes away from the mirror and his own reflection.

Patton gasps and Logan has to place an arm on the wall for something to lean against.

It’s finally happening.

Finally, they’ll have answers.

And their fourth soulmate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you guys think? Hoped you enjoyed it and again sorry for any trouble the changes caused. Promise I will not be pulling anything remotely like again. Thank you so much for reading especially after the changes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finally meet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me so long but it was an important chapter and it needed to be perfect.

For the first time in his life, Logan doesn’t know what to say.

He feels nauseous and dizzy.

Three years, three years since they found out that there was someone else out there that they had missed. He had started to believe they’d never find them since no matter how hard they tried, they still never wrote anything back. They clearly wanted nothing to do with them, he doubts that that has changed.

Logan goes and sits on Roman’s bed, leaning up against the wall, needing something solid to hold him up. Patton joins him on the bed but instead, he sits on his knees leaning forward and enthusiastically patting his lap.

Roman sits in his desk chair and Patton shouts, excitement and nerves spilling into his voice, “What’s he like? What’s his name?”

Roman looks slightly dazed but he gives a nod anyway, “Right uh, h-he was quiet, seemed kinda shy. He was also pretty emo.” Logan’s mind is latching onto every little piece of information and over-analyzing it even though it doesn’t seem to be leading to anything, no answers or theories.

“Aww, he sounds adorable! What’s his name?”

Despite himself, Logan finds himself freezing with curious anticipation. “He didn’t say.”

Patton’s shoulder slump in disappointment and a small pout finds itself onto his face.“Oh, that’s okay, what happened next?”

“Uh, he didn’t want to walk home alone in the dark so I walked him home… I know where he lives!” He says, realization only just hitting him.

Patton makes a shocked squeaking sound as he bounces up and down on the bed.“You know where he lives!? You know where we can find him?!” Roman nods and Patton on already on up and grabbing his shoes. “Let’s go then! We can ask him his name!”

He’s heading towards the door when Logan speaks, “Hold on there, Patton. I do not believe that to be the correct next step.”

Patton pauses with a frown, “What do you mean?”

“It’s late, we’re all quite tired and I do not think he will react well if we show up at his house in the middle of the night. It’d be best for us to get a night’s rest and then decide the best course of action in the morning.”

Roman lets out a groan, a groan Logan has learned to identify as when Roman realizes someone else is right and he doesn’t want them to be. “Yeah alright, you’ve got a point.”

Patton doesn’t seem to love this idea, clearly feeling impatient but he gives a nod, “Promise we’ll go find them tomorrow.”

“Promise,” Logan says and at that, Patton flashes his beautiful blinding smile and Logan feels his heart melt.

The three of them all squish themselves into Roman’s double bed, curling up and cuddling up together, using each other for warmth and comfort.

Logan doesn’t think any of them get much sleep that night.

 

* * *

 

Virgil wakes to every inch of his skin tingling.

Groggily he forces himself to his feet and into his bathroom where his reflection stares at him in shock.

Little blue butterflies dusting across his cheekbones and nose. A red heart in the corner of his right eye. His arms completely covered in a spectacular veil of drawing. And it’s not just the usual colors, it’s a mix and match of every color known to man. It’s like he’s drowning in art. It’s beautiful and amazing and so goddamn confusing.

The inside of his forearm is blank of the painting, instead, having the words, _We’ve found you, we’re outside your apartment building. Please come outside._

Holy motherfucking shitballs.

No fucking way.

It’s like his body has gained a mind of its own because he’s already darting towards the nearby window in hopes of a glimpse.

He sees three boys standing outside, they’re too far away for him to make out any noticeable features except for the fact that they’re covered head to toe in bright colors drawn on their skin.

How the hell is this happening? How did they even find him?

One of them is looking up in his direction and then he’s pointing up at Virgil’s window and the other two are looking up. He lets out a horrified gasp before dropping out of sight and roughly slamming himself against the wooden floor and probably bruising his knees.

Did they see him?

He hopes not.

Oh god, what if they did? Looking at the marks is one terrible fucking thing but actually meeting them!? His mom would be rolling and probably fucking sobbing in her grave. He can’t do that to her. Though it’s not like she’s actually here to be disappointed in him.

He doesn’t dare get back up, instead choosing to crawl around his apartment like the fucking coward he is. He doesn’t remotely feel like eating, hasn’t felt like it in a long time but logically he knows going four days without food is a bad idea so he grabs an old granola bar, taking a few bites but it only ends up making him feel sick so he ends up abandoning the half-eaten bar on the kitchen counter.

He’s getting dressed, grabbing the turtleneck he’s been wearing for the past few days and his hoodie, wearing it bringing a comforting familiarity. He’s putting on black skinny jeans when suddenly there’s a knock at his door, his head shoots up, jerking in the direction of the door. Literally, no one knows where he lives, he made sure of that.

Could it actually fucking be them? How the hell!?

Another knock and then a voice, “Hello, are you there? We saw you through the window.”

He slaps a hand over his mouth, terrified of making a sound and alerting them of his presence because he can’t meet them. He can’t. How the hell did they find his apartment?

“Hello?” Another voice asks, one that he recognized and oh, god, it’s that boy who from last night. Wow, of course, of fucking course. He’s really fucked up this time. “I don’t know if you remember me but we met last night, I walked you home. My name is Roman, we’re your soulmates.”

A new voice speaks up, this one deeper yet softer, “My name is Logan and our third is Patton.”

“What’s your name?” The first voice, the one he assumes is Patton, asks.

There’s a horrible silence as they wait for an answer and he doesn’t give them one.

If they didn’t hate him before then they certainly do now. God, what if he’s right and they’re kind and good and only mean well and now he’s here fucking ruining everything, mucking up their lives with his disgusting existence.

They’re better off without him.

“Please just say something. We really need to talk,” his soulmate who is apparently named Logan says.

He stays silent and Patton asks, “Are you okay?” There it is again. The question that these three strangers have asked more than anyone else in his entire life. They seem like they actually care.

Do they?

Them actually genuinely caring would make everything so much fucking worse. If they were the heartless cruel assholes his mom warned him about then it would be easy, he could just tell them to go fuck themselves and to stay the hell away from him, end of story, problem solved.

But if they are good and care then what is he supposed to do? Be needlessly cruel to these people!? Oh god, if only his mom was here. She’d know what to do.

“G-go away please.”

“No, we’re not going anywhere, not until we talk,” Logan says through the door, voice firm.

His thoughts are going a mile a minute, desperately trying to figure out any other possible solution, unfortunately, coming up with nothing.

“Y-you’ll go after?”

He hears a sorrowful sigh and then, “If that is still what you want then okay, we’ll go.” There’s whispered words of protest and then what sounds like an argument before it ends abruptly.

Okay, okay, he can do that. Just one conversation and then they’ll leave him alone. It’ll fucking suck and probably hurt like a bitch but he can just get it over with and then this fucking madness will end. He’ll stop being an idiot and looking at the mark. He can move on from this fucked up little blip in his life.

He can do this.

He opens the door, hand shaking.

Oh, it’s the boys from the library. He’s surprised he didn’t see that one coming, didn’t figure it out when he first hear their voices through the door, it seems so obvious now. When he first talked to them in the library, he knew there was something strange there, something familiar. He should’ve known.

“You’re the boy who works at the library! The one who laughed at my jokes!” Fuck, now they know where he lives and where he works. He’s so fucking screwed.

“Uh yeah, I guess… do you want to come in?” Oh god, as much as he hates being around people, he’s really fucking regretting the number of social interactions he’s ever had. He never talked at school that a lot of kids had theorized he was mute. He talked with his mom but that was always on eggshells. He only ever spoke when spoken to at his foster families and they only ever got one-word answers. Yup, the most he’s ever talked to people is at work and of course, that’s only ever been with his fake cheerful customer service facade.

In fact, he thinks the longest conversation he’s ever had was with Silvia and she had to do a lot of prodding and again he only really gave one-word answers to her questions.

Basically, he is not remotely prepared to deal with this.

“H-how did-d you find my apartment?”

“We saw you through your window so Logan did the math and figured out which one you were in,” Patton explains, looking so fond and proud of Logan that it makes something twist in Virgil’s gut.

“Oh.” There’s a horrible and awkward silence as the three file into his house and he wishes he could just slam the door closed, locking them out and hiding himself away.

They look around his apartment, eyes flitting across every object which granted isn’t much but he’s definitely feeling judged. Especially when Logan pauses, staring at the broken remains of Virgil’s phone that he still has yet to clean up.

“You live here?” Roman asks, sounding concerned and Virgil can’t decide whether that makes him happy or pisses him the fuck off. He decides to go with the latter since anger is something he knows all too well, he knows how to handle it.

“Yeah, what about it?” He asks defensively. He knows it’s not the nicest place but it’s his and he’s not gonna let them shit all over it.

The three exchange glances, seemingly having a whole conversation with just a few looks and it’s stupid and weird but he finds himself feeling just the slightest bit left out. They know each other so well and he doesn’t have anybody like that.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just surprised,” Roman says sheepishly and Virgil merely shrugs in return.

There’s another awkward silence as the three of them just stare at him, it’s as if they’re expecting something from him. He doesn’t say or do anything, just fidgets nervously under their gaze.

Logan seems to get tired of this and ends up taking control of the situation, “All right, I’m sure you understand that we have questions.” Virgil bites his lips, nodding and rubbing his hand up and down his arm and across the scratches he carved into his skin through the many layers of clothes.

Patton jumps up. “What's your name?” That… wasn’t what he was expecting. He was kinda expecting things to go down the why are you such a piece of shit path.

“Uh, V-Virgil.” Maybe that was a bad idea. Maybe he shouldn’t have told them his name but no going back now.

“That’s a nice name,” he says with that smile of his and it makes Virgil almost want to cry.

Logan clears his throat before speaking, “Why did you ignore us?” Okay wow, jumping right to the point.

“Uh, I-I didn’t… well, I did but I couldn’t look.” Oh god, what the fuck is he supposed to say!? How the hell can he explain an entire life of confusion and rules!?

“You didn’t look?” Logan repeats, voice calm and Virgil’s mind is already running with that. His calm is a lie if the way his hands curl up into fists is anything go by. He’s angry. Oh, Virgil hates anger. Yes, he’s used to anger but he’s also so very used to it turning into something terrifying, something violent.

He clenches his hands together tightly, refusing to let them see that shaking tremor that has somehow become a part of his daily life.

“I… when you would write, I-I just wouldn’t look. I wasn’t supposed to.” Okay, time to shut the fuck up before he says something he regrets.

“You weren’t supposed to?” Patton asks gently, trying to prod the information out with that kind warm smile and fuck, it works.

“Yeah, well, mom didn’t really like soulmates a-and so I couldn’t look.”

Roman takes a step forward, coming to stand right in front of Virgil, confusion and hurt splayed across his face, “But that doesn’t make any sense!” His voice is loud, just like his words, flooding with passion and emotion. It triggers something in Virgil’s brain, making his mouth go dry and eyes looking down at his black converse. He should’ve worn something else. Something a little less dark and angsty. Does he even have anything like that? He has a dark navy blue shirt but that’s barely any more color than black. Plus it wouldn’t cover his neck and that is a must. He can’t let them see the bruises.

“Soulmates are… are one of the greatest parts of life. Soulmates are literally a person or persons made for you, the entire universe saw someone and knew they were perfect for you and chose them for you. It’s fated. I-it’s beautiful and probably the most romantic I’ve ever heard. How could anyone not love the idea of soulmates?” Roman asks.

His words make him think of the small shy red-headed girl from junior high. She hardly ever spoke, only ever answering teacher’s questions and always getting them right. The other students hated her, calling her a know-it-all.

When they found out that she didn’t have a soulmate, all the bullying just got worse.

She killed herself a year after that.

He thinks she probably hated the idea of soulmates.

His mom hated soulmates too because she had one and she loved him with all she had and he didn't care. He left her and she was never the same. The heartbreak carved into her and ripped out everything she had, leaving her empty and broken.

But these three, it seems to have worked out for them. He can tell by the way they look at each other, fond smiles and knowing glances. There’s a part of him somewhere deep inside that so desperately wants to be a part of what they have. But logically he knows that could never happen. He’s sure that they hate him, don’t want anything to with him. Why would they? They’re here only for answers and then they’re going to go and that will be the end of it.

Apparently, his thoughts had gotten too loud and pulled him away, causing him to zone out because when he focuses back on the situation, Roman is still ranting about soulmates, the other two are seemingly trying to calm him down as his face goes red and he swings his hands around crazily.

Passionate. The words he wrote were always so passionate. It’s clear that’s just simply who he is. Virgil can’t help but wonder what it must feel like that care about something like that. He doesn’t think he ever has. Maybe his art but that doesn’t leave him with fiery emotions, it leads him somewhere else and makes things stop.

He’s distracted, watching Roman in awe when Roman’s hand accidentally slams against Virgil’s stomach, hitting the cut and his ribs just right enough to cause him to cry out in pain. Roman looks at him, shock and horror on his face evident.

Virgil’s cheeks flush pink at his overreaction, shoulders slumping and once again refusing to make eye contact with any of them.

“Are you hurt?” Patton asks, voice cracking with some emotion Virgil can’t identify.

“No, no, I’m fine. He, uh, just surprised me is all,” He quickly and swiftly lies, all too used to this little game.

He expects them to nod and give up their line of questioning.

They don’t.

“That was clearly not a noise of surprise but one of pain,” Logan says and Virgil scrunches up his nose.

“You can’t know that,” he says, deciding to dodge the problem, challenging people is the best way to get away from an uncomfortable subject. Yeah, they’ll most likely end up beating you up but at least he doesn’t have to deal with talking about what he doesn’t want to.

“Please tell us if you’re hurt,” Patton begs and it’s as if his heart cracks.

“I’m fine, really, I swear. It’s just a little cut, I was stupid and fell down the apartment complex stairs,” he explains. Virgil is a good liar, no, he’s a great liar. He knows how to twist and mix things up just right to convince people of just about anything. Roman and Patton, while still both looking concerned seem to believe him, nodding their heads.

But Logan, Logan just clenches his jaw and scowls at Virgil, “You have already shown that you’re willing to lie. Tell me, why would I believe you now?”

“Uh cause it’s the truth,” he says, voice taking on a tone very much to say duh.  
He knows Logan can tell that he’s lying, a frown on the man’s lips, eyebrows pinched together. Virgil’s heart is pounding, expecting a fight or Logan to just start screaming at him. Instead, Logan lets out a long sigh and nods his head, apparently just letting it go.

Oh, thank god.

“I have a question,” Patton says, his tone strange. “Did you want to ignore us?”

If you had asked him that just a year ago, he probably would’ve shrugged off the question, not even knowing the answer himself. But now, after watching their drawing and kind words appear on his skin, after meeting them, seeing them, he knows what he wants.

But it doesn’t matter what he wants.

It never has.

“I-I never really thought about it.”

“Think about it now.”

He knows. He’s thought about it non-stop since he started looking. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it, “I-I didn’t want to but-”

Patton cuts him off, “Well there you go, kiddo. My mom always tells me to follow my heart, do what makes me happy. I think you need to too.”

“I-I can’t just-”

Again, Patton cuts him off, “Give it try. Please. Just for… say a month. Do what makes you happy. Talk to us. Be with us”

He looks up at Patton with his great big puppy dog eyes and a gentle smile and Virgil finds himself weak for it. “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, why does this chapter have so much dialogue. I mean it was needed but damn. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Also tell me if you see any typos or anything or if you just have some constructive criticism. All is welcome


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One could call it a first date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are lots of Point of view switches and I tried to make it clear who it is each time and I hope I made it obvious enough but maybe I didn't. Tell me what you think and if I should edit it and put who it is.

“Okay.”

Patton’s heart melts with relief, the tense nervousness feeling floating away. And there’s just so much happiness thrumming through his body, he can feel it his bones and prickling under his skin. He’s sure that is must show on his face. His emotions always do.

Patton reaches for Virgil, planning on pulling him into a hug when the boy violently jerks away, “What are you d-doing?”

“Hugging you?” He says, voice turning it more into a question than he had intended as the terrified reaction from Virgil leaves him confused, worried, and not so sure a hug is a good idea anymore.

“Uh... p-please don’t.”

“Oh okay, of course. We have only just met. I’m sorry, I was just a bit excited.” He notices how Virgil visibly relaxes when Patton handles it so well. Is he really just that glad Patton isn’t going to hug him or was he also worried about something else?

Patton can’t help but notice the furrowed brows and small frown on Logan’s face. He pushes through. “Is anyone else hungry? I’m starving! We could go get some breakfast.”

“Little late for breakfast, Pat,” Roman says. “But I do know a great place for brunch not too far from here.”

“Great idea, Ro!” Patton says. “How does that sound to you, Virgil?”

A look of surprise flitters across his face. “W-wait y-you want to go now?” Virgil asks, eyes wide and Patton notices that Virgil’s hand seems to have a slight nervous tremor.

“Well yeah, is that a problem?” Logan asks.

“It’s just that I-I have a lot of studying I need t-to do and… d-do you really want to go out looking like this?” He asks, gesturing to himself and all the drawing adorning his skin.

“What’s wrong with that?” Roman asks.

Virgil makes a face that Patton can’t read. It seems sad but also confused? Patton doesn’t understand him in the slightest.

He knows that he’s only just met Virgil, that they’ve only had one conversation, and that it makes sense that he doesn’t know anything about him but Patton has always been able to read people. But this boy is just such a mystery to him.

“People will stare.”

“We can wash it off if you would prefer,” Logan says, voice gentle and now that is interesting. Patton is well aware of how angry Logan has felt towards their fourth soulmate despite how much he tried to hide it. Has only a few minutes with Virgil just magically fixed that, is all forgiven?

No, Logan doesn’t work that way. There’s something else going on.

Virgil gives a timid nod and Logan is already heading into his bathroom, turning on the sink and washing away his part of the work of art on their skin.

Patton’s heart clenches at the sight but he nods his head, glad that they didn’t use any permanent marker and joins Logan in cleaning it all up. Roman’s face shifts into a pout but Logan gives him a look, clearly trying to convey something. Roman gives him a baffled expression in return but ends up scrubbing away the drawings he made, the pout not quite leaving his face.

A small shy smile graces Virgil’s lips and Patton immediately decides that it was worth it. “Thanks.”

 

* * *

 

He knows that it’s rude and he’s well aware that Patton is sending him disappointed looks but Logan spends the whole bus ride on his phone.

He has a theory and he needs to confirm it. It doesn’t matter anyway, Patton and Roman are carrying the conversation enough for everyone. Most likely due to the fact that he’d barely said anything this entire time and Virgil has literally not said a word since that quiet thank you. He was clearly listening intently, hanging off every word but never adding to the conversation.

Logan had noticed the shaking and wide eyes, and all of his other nervous ticks and twitches.

It’s why he’s been on every website he could find about abuse and its signs.

It’s all there, it’s fucking textbook.

He’s 99.4% sure that Virgil faced some sort of abuse in life.

He wonders how he’ll tell Patton and Roman. He can’t imagine either of them taking it well, especially Patton. He’ll be crushed. Should he tell them? While it’s not exactly his place to talk about Virgil’s life, he can’t just hide his suspicions from them. He tells them everything, his thoughts, ideas, dream, and especially all of his hypotheses.

They would be really quite upset if he hid this from them but they’ll be left feeling distressed either way.

And it’s not a breach of Virgil’s privacy if he doesn’t actually know anything. Only simply sharing a theory.

He lets out a sigh, already knowing exactly what he’s going to do. He can’t keep something like this from them but he does hate how this will hurt them and he regrets being the one that will bring that pain to them.

“Logan, we’re here. Put your phone away,” Patton says, voice somehow chastising and authoritative but also coming out like a whine. Logan pulls away from the window where he was leaning with a jolt, quickly pocketing his phone and jumping off the red seat and to his feet.

They exit the bus, Patton’s arm linked with Roman’s whose attention is seemingly stuck on Logan, a curious expression on his face. Roman knows somethings up. God, they both know him so well. Meanwhile, Virgil is standing at least a foot away, eyes scanning their new surroundings.

  
Virgil actually agreeing to come out with them surprised Logan. He had originally figured that Virgil wouldn’t want anything to do with them. Then Logan thought that maybe he would be too shy to spend any actual time with them, especially out in public.

They sit at a table pushed into a corner, far from the other customers. Virgil’s chair as far away from the table as possible without being too noticeable but still giving Logan the impression that he’s ready to bolt at a moments notice. Logan notices this, of course, he does.

 

* * *

 

Virgil orders the cheapest thing on the menu. He still has to make rent this week. And now because he’s an idiot and thought it was a good idea to destroy something expensive and vital to his life, he has to save up for a new phone. He’s so fucking stupid, breaking things just because he was a little bit upset. How juvenile.

“So Virgil tell us about yourself,” Patton says, tapping his fingers against his empty glass. Oh god, here it comes. Small talk. The worst fucking part about going outside. He’s going to ruin this somehow, he just knows he is.

“Like what?”

“Anything you want!” Patton says.

“I-I dunno. There’s really not much to tell.” Liar. He’s such a goddamn liar. But what is he supposed to say? I’m Virgil and my dad took off when I was a kid, then my mom overdosed on drugs and I ended up as the weird freaky orphan kid with no friends and abusive foster parents. Yeah, like that would go over well. They’d hate him so much more than they already do. He should just stop this nonsense already before it ends up going down in flames like he knows he will.

He opens his mouth to say something, he doesn’t know what and never will since the waiter comes, filling their drinks. Just simple water for him and Logan. Orange juice for Patton and sparkling cider for Roman.

He quickly reaches for his cup, grabbing it with a tight grip and gulping down the nice cool liquid. His hands are trembling, making the cup and the ice inside clink against the glass. Logan’s eyes narrow in on the movement and Virgil’s insides churn with anxiety.

“Well, what’s your favorite season?” Patton asks.

“Uh fall.”

“That’s nice! Mine is spring! It’s such a beautiful time of the year and I love it! All the pretty flowers blooming and the fluffy animals coming of hiding!” Patton says, jumping up causing his seat to bounce up and down slightly, the chair legs thumping against the floor.

Virgil doesn’t think he’s ever met something with such enthusiasm. Is he always like this? He has been acting this way the entire time Virgil has known him which granted hasn’t been long but his behavior has got to take a lot of energy and he doesn’t seem to be slowing down or getting tired.

“And you know that the best time of the year to break out the trampoline is spring time,” Patton says with a giggle. Roman lets out a great big bellowing laugh, just as dramatic as him.

The three are smiling at each other, though Logan looks more exasperated than the other two. It makes Virgil feel like he’s intruding on something that is theirs alone. Like he’s somewhere he isn’t supposed to be. This whole thing just feels so incredibly wrong.

Roman turns to him, “What do you know about musicals, Virgil?”

“I like Dear Evan Hansen,” he says, leaving out the part about how he only discovered the musical by googling lyrics that Roman himself had written on his ankle because he does not want to end up coming off as some creepy stalker.

“Oh, that’s one of my favorites!” He says before launching into a whole spiel about all of his favorite musicals and their entire plots and his favorite songs, even singing a few parts. It makes the people at the nearest table stare and Virgil’s throat goes dry, he ends up hiding his face behind his glass of water that luckily the waiter had just refilled. He hates the staring, the feeling of eyes on him but Roman really does have a lovely voice and Virgil feels lucky just being able to hear it. He’ll hold the memory of Roman’s singing deep and close to his heart when this all comes to an end.

The waiter comes with their food and they all begin eating which luckily brings a silence Virgil was desperately needing. There’s just quite a lot going on and it’s making things spectacularly hard to deal with but right now he just focuses on taking bites of his toast and forcing himself to swallow it down, ignoring the nausea it causes.

He eats along with the others but the truth is he’s been full for a while now but he’s not going to draw any extra attention to himself so he pretends to keep eating, a skill he has perfected over the years. He often feels Logan’s eyes on him, making a nervous pittering feeling crawl across his skin, like bugs walking on him but he ignores that too. He ignores everything that makes him feel uncomfortable, just like he has done all his life.

“Virgil, did you know that Neptune takes 164.79 years to make only one the sun? It’s only made a single orbit since it was discovered in 1846,” Logan says.

Virgil gives a small nod in return. He did know that, Logan was the one that had told him. Maybe he hadn’t meant for Virgil to see that message. Maybe that’s why he’s telling him now. Maybe he’ll be upset to know that Virgil did in fact see.

Logan pulls a small grey cloth out of his shirt pocket before taking off his glasses and cleaning them off with it. “If it’s alright, may I ask if where you had heard that particular fact before.”

Oh god, here it is. The screaming and the hate and the rejection. He thought maybe he’d be lucky enough that they’d save it for a more public area but guess not. He’d probably upset them so much so far that they decided he didn’t deserve that small bit of mercy. They’d be right.

He doesn’t say anything, he can’t seem to get his mouth to work right. God, he’s so fucking useless.

“I assume that you must have read it when I wrote it down a day or so ago.”

Again, Virgil nods. Underneath the table, his hands are clenched tightly in fists. He can get through this. They’ll shout and yell at him, tell him that they hate him and want nothing to do with him. He’ll tell them that he understands and then that will be the end of it, it will be the last time he ever sees them again.

He squeezes his right fist so hard that he feels the skin of his palm break, nails carving into his flesh. He feels the familiar wetness of blood and immediately shoves his hand into his hoodie pocket. He can’t let them see that.

“I thought you said you didn’t read what we wrote,” Roman says, voice guarded and Virgil recognizes the telltale signs of someone shoving their emotions down deep to be ignored. He’s done it countless times.

“I-I did until a-about a week ago?” He says, voicing it as a question even though it’s the truth.

“What made you look?” Patton asks.

**You’re a pretty little thing though.**

**Wallet wasn’t enough, you owe me more.**

**Shh, it’ll be over soon and then I’ll let you go.**

Virgil’s hand subconsciously moves to his neck. Suddenly his turtleneck feels too tight, too constricting, too much like a hand wrapping around his throat and choking him.

He desperately wants to take it off or at the very least pull the tight fabric away from his neck but doesn’t. He can’t. They’ll see and then they’ll have questions and if he answers him, they’ll hate him and be disgusted in him, in what he is.

“I-I… college has been stressful and I j-just had to look, curiosity got the better of me.” He can tell they know it’s a lie. Normally, he’s an excellent liar but he just couldn’t pull himself out of his panic enough this time. Logan’s eyes are careful, moving up and down as they take him in, analyzing him. God, he’s only known this guy for two or three hours and he’s already had enough. He wants to scream and shove those glasses into his face, his eyes.

God, he’s such a fucking monster. Logan hasn’t done anything wrong and here Virgil is thinking about how he wants to hurt him. They should get the hell away from him.

“Well, I’m glad you looked and I’m very glad to have met you, Virgil,” Patton says, voice so unbelievably honest and pure. Virgil will take that purity and taint it. He’ll crush it in his broken hands, cause it to shatter into pieces and watch as the black darkness that is him swallows it whole.

He abruptly jerks upwards and to his feet causing the table to shake and the plates to clatter. “I need to go, I have class,” he says, throwing a twenty dollar bill to the table even though he absolutely cannot afford it and leaves as quickly as he can.

He thinks he hears someone call his name but it’s muffled by the ringing in his ears and he just ignores it like he does everything else.

 

* * *

 

Virgil’s reaction makes Logan feel sick. He hadn’t meant to trigger the boy but somehow he had.

His reaction also gave Logan more information, information Logan isn’t sure he wanted.

Something bad had happened to Virgil and very recently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay first of all I want to make it very clear that Virgil does not have an eating disorder. He just has often chosen to pay bills over eating and with his anxiety and stress and all traumas, recent and not. He hasn't been eating much.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil is left to think about things and the others begin to plan

Virgil lied, he didn’t have class.

Instead, he ran home, feeling like he was being watched and followed, terrified of every shadow and little noise. He hopes they don’t come after him or just show up at his house again. This place is supposed to be his safe place and now it doesn’t feel anything like that.

Maybe he should move.

It’s not like it would take very long to pack.

No, that’s stupid and it would be cruel and unfair to them. And he barely has enough money to survive, he can’t afford to be paying for a move. He’s already gonna have to use all he’s saved for a new phone to pay rent because he literally just threw away a fucking twenty like a fucking idiot.

God, why is he this way? Why can’t he just be normal?

It’s like there’s someone out there whose only goal in life is make him fucking miserable.

Great, now he’s moping, acting like he’s got it so bad when he doesn’t. If anybody has problems, it’s Logan, Patton, and Roman cause they’re all stuck with him.

Virgil moves quickly, flinging his closet door open. Relief and comfort immediately coursing through his veins at the sight of his art supplies. He should have probably filled his closet with something smart and reasonable like clothes or other necessities but he honestly doesn’t care.

All that matters is that his art supplies are kept away safe.

He grabs as much as his arms can carry and carefully places them on his mattress, pulling out multiple different kinds of brushes and countless colors of paint out of the boxes. He puts the canvas on the floor and gets to work, no plan or any idea what’s he’s even going to draw, he’ll figure it out.

It’s dark, he’s using lots of blacks and purples. Greys and dark blues.

The paint is going everywhere, staining his jeans and hoodie. He’s repeatedly switching between his brushes and his hands, using a sponge at one point, in an attempt to get it to look just right, the shading being his biggest problem right now. He can never get the shading to look right, there’s always something just off about it.

Hours go by, hours that he spends shutting his brain down and just letting himself fade away into the shapes and colors. He turns into nothing, just more air in the wind, no thoughts or emotions him distinguishing as a human, a person. He simply stops being.

At some point, there’s a heavy weight in his chest and he pulls away from the canvas, the strong feeling of finality making him realize that it must be done.

He looks around, noticing that his apartment has gotten darker without his realizing that the sun had begun to set. How long had he been here? Wasn’t it like ten am? He grabs his old cheap duct tape covered laptop from the kitchen counter and checks the time to see that it’s 5:42.

There’s a small part of his stressing about the time he’s wasted but all in all, he can’t bother to care. There’s a serene feeling of composure spread throughout his body, it’s like every function of his body has slowed down. Even his heartbeat has become a soothing quiet noise, a comforting pattern.

He puts his arms above his head, stretching them as far as he can, hearing cracks and letting out a sigh at the feeling.

Written in blue on his upper arm, almost on his shoulder is, _It was great to meet you. I’m sorry for scaring you, I hope you’re okay._

He glances down at the paint covering his skin and a resigned cold disappointment hits him. They’ve probably figured out that he lied to them. Or maybe they thought he had an art class. Probably not. He isn’t even taking any art classes, he doesn’t have the guts for that.

He drew water, he almost always draws water. Most of the canvas is covered in a variety of dark colors, and if he stares at it too long it looks like the waves are moving, making the water look almost alive.

In the middle, there’s a slight dash of muddied sunlight shining down through the water. In the light is a figure submerged deep down below, reaching up towards the surface where it’s bright and safe but never getting there.

He’s never been able to tell if his art is any good.

Objectively he knows it’s better than some, better than a weak scribble of stick figure but other than that he has no idea whether it’s absolute shit or not. And he’s never let anyone see his art before so he hasn’t ever gotten a second opinion.

For a split second, the idea of showing the painting to his soulmates flitters across his mind before he quickly crushes it and pretends he never even thought of it because thoughts like that are absolutely not allowed. Thoughts like that only cause problems.

They probably wouldn’t even care anyway.

 

* * *

 

Roman is laying on the floor, pushing the bottoms of his palms into his eyes. He lets out a groan, “What did we do wrong?”

“We were too pushy, showing up at his house, forcing him to talk to us and then dragging him off to brunch. It was way too much way too soon,” Patton says.

“Ugh, you’re right,” Roman says, softly kicking his legs against the wooden leg of the bed with a huff. “But what else were we supposed to do? How else were we supposed to find him?” Virgil hadn’t told Roman anything him when he walked him home that day, the only information he was able to get was where he lived. It was their only chance. And after so many years of waiting, he was not going to let that chance go.

“I must tell you something,” Logan says, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I had been watching Virgil during our time with him and it’s led me to believe that Virgil has faced some sort of trauma at some point in his life. I am not aware of any details but I am quite sure that I’m right.”

Roman’s heart drops.

Some sort of trauma? What does that mean exactly? And what does it mean for them? Is this why Virgil hasn’t wanted anything to do with them? Is this why he ignored them for them long?

So many questions and no answers in sight. Logan would have already told them if he knew anything more.

Before Logan said those words, Roman was angry to be honest. Angry at Virgil. He'd been working hard to hide his anger, telling himself that he needs to be kind and understanding, letting himself hope that there's a good reason for all of this and that they'll all have a happily ever after.

Now he just feels guilty. 

“I believe we are going to have to take a much more subtle route when it comes to Virgil,” Logan says.

Roman jumps upwards, clumsily landing on his feet and knocking over his desk chair but he ignores it to flash Logan his award-winning grin, “Are you saying we have to woo him?”

Logan lets out an exasperated sigh, rubbing his temples in annoyance but Roman knows he’s just pretending as he’s very clearly trying hard to hide his smile, “Well, I said nothing of the sort but I suppose that you could phrase it that way if you prefer.”

“Oh, I do prefer. I prefer it very much!” He says, raising his eyebrows and nodding his head seriously, earning a laugh from Patton. 

Patton’s laughter warms Roman’s heart, he’s always been able to make Roman feel better with his beautiful smile and bright eyes. It’s like he’s the living embodiment of pure sunshine, bringing light wherever he goes.

“I do not think it would be wise to crowd Virgil,” Logan says. “All three of us at a time may be too much for him. Perhaps it would be better to try approaching him separately.”

Patton claps his hands together excitedly, “That’s a great idea, Lo lo!” Logan adjusts his glass, lips pressed into a firm line to hide his grin.

And it was, it was a really good idea.

It's a great way for Roman to express himself, a perfect outlet for all the twisting and confusing emotions he feels. 

One of Roman’s many talents is Romance, his name is quite literally right there in the word. His mind and soul is built for love and passion, enchanting those he loves with flowers and gifts. He is the king of romance and intrigue. He will court Virgil so hard and until that adorable emo disaster can’t even remember his own name.

Basically, he’s got this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's super short and I'm sorry about that, the next chapter will be longer. Thank you so much for reading! What'd you guys think? This chapter just felt kinda off to me but I like it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff. Just endless Fluff.

Virgil is an idiot.

Silvia's little sister, Claudia got into a car accident yesterday. Silvia quickly assured him that she would be fine but that Claudia is pretty freaked out about it and so is Silvia so she really needs to go home to be there for her. She begged Virgil to take her shift and it's not like he could say no, her baby sister was hurt, it was a family emergency. That's not the kind of situation you just say no to. He's a piece of shit but he's not a complete and utter jackass so he reluctantly agreed to take her shift. 

And right now, he really really really regrets doing so as he sits at the top of the concrete stairs, staring into the night, head shooting back and forth, carefully watching for any sort of movement. He can’t believe he actually let this happen again. Is he a fucking idiot? It’s like he’s looking for trouble.

He promised he wouldn’t take any more night shifts, he promised himself that he’d always be locked away safe in his apartment before nightfall. First, he fell asleep in the fucking cafeteria and now this bullshit?

It seems that he’s real fucking bad when it comes to promises.

After all, he promised his mom he’d never look at the marks and look how that went.  
A dark part of him is glad she isn’t here to see what he’s become, she'd be crushed. Probably would never forgive him. Immediately he feels guilty about any remotely positive feelings towards her death. More proof he’s a terrible fucking person.

Freezing wind bites at his skin, making him shiver and run his hands up his arms to try and generate heat.

“Virgil!” A voice shouts and he feels this heavy feeling of panic and dread drop onto him, crushing his insides and breaking apart any coherent thoughts.

A hand grabs his shoulder, forcing him to turn around.

He’s met with Roman, wearing a great big grin. The relief is imminent, he lets out a sigh and the fear he was carrying drift from his body, leaving him tired and just wanting to curl up in a ball and never move again.

“I’ve been hoping I’d run into you,” Roman says and Virgil honestly doesn’t know what to say to that. In his head, he makes a depressing self-deprecating comment but he suspects saying anything like that would not go over well so he just keeps quiet.

Disappointment shines on his face until it disappears as quickly as it came, his smile returning. Virgil watches the various emotions flitter across his face in a horrid fascination, guilt finding its way into his stomach and making him feel sick.

“So whatcha up to?” He asks and Virgil immediately decides that he cannot tell the truth. He’s already bothered Roman enough with his pathetic fears.

“I-I was looking at the stars,” he says. Not a complete lie, he really was looking up at the stars, but it definitely wasn’t his actual reason for sitting there. It doesn’t matter though, he knows Roman won’t call him out for it, Virgil can see it in his eyes. He could probably say anything to this boy and he would never call him the liar that he is.

It’s almost sweet in a messed up way.

“Do you like watching the stars?”

“Uh, yeah, I do,” Virgil says and at least he’s not telling lies anymore.

“Logan loves astronomy. Like he’s completely obsessed, he knows all the constellations and the myths behind them. It’s actually pretty cool,” Roman says, voice sounding so incredibly fond and eyes that just scream how proud he is.

Is this why he should have socialized when he was a little kid? If he’d been a more friendly child, would he then have the faintest idea of how to respond to the things Roman is saying? Or would it be the same? With him sitting here and his mind blank, no remotely helpful thoughts to be seen.

“So were you just going to sit here watching the stars for the rest of the night?” Roman asks, tilting his head slightly, voice gaining a playful tone.

“Uh no, I-I was gonna head home soon.”

“Great! Can I walk you?”

This actually genuinely makes him smile because thank fucking god he doesn’t have to walk alone, “That’d actually be really nice, thank you.” He sure the relief is obvious in his voice and yet Roman still doesn’t say anything. Yesterday, they were noticing every little thing and asking him about it but now Roman simply remains silent. Somethings up. As Virgil knows very well, whenever things seem even a little bit too good to be true then they are and they something is wrong, you just haven’t noticed it yet.

Maybe this is where Roman tell him that the three of them want nothing to do with Virgil. It would make sense after all the bullshit he pulled yesterday.

But Roman simply smiles, the moonlight shining down on him, making him look magical. Like he’s an ethereal being from another world where everything is good and kind, full of beautiful things like-

Okay, Virgil desperately needs that train of thought to end right the fuck now.

Roman takes a few steps forward before pausing when he realizes Virgil has made no movements to stand. He laughs and offers Virgil his hand to help him up. A great big part of Virgil is screaming for him to not accept the gesture but he doesn’t want to seem rude. He wants this whole thing to end a painlessly as possible so he takes the hand and pulls himself to his foot.

He quickly pulls away and begins walking forward but this time, it’s his turn to stop and look back at Roman who is as still as stone, cheeks turning a similar color as his rusty red hair. Oh god, Virgil hopes he didn’t fuck something up.

“Are you coming?” Virgil asks and that seems to shake Roman out of his daze as he’s smiling again and rushing after Virgil.

They walk in silence for a bit until Roman says, “You look cold.”

“Probably cause I am,” he says, immediately making himself panic and feel sick. God, was that a rude thing to say? It didn’t sound rude in his head but it certainly did after he said it. But that happens just about every time he speaks.

Roman laughs before grabbing his hand and tugging him off the sidewalk and towards a small coffee shop. Virgil thinks about protesting but he already possibly said something mean and he doesn’t want to fuck this moment up anymore so he should probably just stay quiet.

A wave of warmth slams against Virgil, causing him to let out a sigh. It really was an amazing feeling to be somewhere warm after freezing his ass off outside.

“Feel better?” He asks.

Virgil nods, “Yeah, th-thanks.”

Again Roman is smiling before heading towards the register which makes Virgil realize that holy shit, they’re still holding hands. As he walks, he gently drags Virgil with him. Virgil lets out a confused and surprised squeaking noise, feeling his face grow warm. Holy fuck, what the hell is happening right now!?

He doesn’t pull away, just letting Roman lead him forward.

Roman orders two pretzels and before Virgil can say anything, Roman has already paid and is letting go of Virgil’s hand to grab the two treats and is now offering one of the pretzels.

“Oh no, I couldn’t.”

“Please? Pretty please with a cherry on top? I really really want you to have this. It’ll make my day that much better. You won’t owe me, I promise,” Roman says, eyes wide and mouth twisting into a pout.

With a sigh, Virgil relents and takes the pastry.

With almost childlike excitement Roman jumps up and down. “Yay!” He takes Virgil’s hand again before heading back out into the outside world.

Virgil takes a bite of the pretzel, he lets out a pleased hum. It’s delicious, tastes like the best thing he’s ever eaten but that may just be because he hasn’t had anything tasty or freshly baked in months. It’s really only been granola bars and cups of noodles recently.

“So you like it?” Roman asks.

“Yes.”

“I’m glad.”

“Thank you for this,” Virgil says quietly. He says this partly because Roman was kind enough to buy him food but also because he’s just so incredibly grateful Roman is even here. He knows that it’s pathetic and stupid, he was fucking terrified to walk home alone.

He feels safer with Roman.

“Oh, I’ve got something for you!” Roman says, leaving his pretzel in his mouth so he can keep holding Virgil’s hand and also reach into his pocket to pull out his wallet. He takes out a bright green ten dollar bill, waving it around in the air right by Virgil’s face to get Virgil to take it. He feels like shit and so awfully awkward but he accepts the money, planning on giving it back the first chance he gets.

Roman grabs his pretzel from his mouth before saying, “You left way more money than you needed to at brunch so I kept the change so I could give it to you the next time I saw you.”

“Oh wow, thanks.” That is such a… thoughtful thing to do. Anybody else would’ve kept the money or used it to pay the bill but Roman made an effort to get it back to Virgil. No one has ever really cared enough to do something like that for him.

The rest of the walk is quiet but a nice peaceful quiet. Every once in awhile Roman will speak up, maybe to point out a pretty flower or to tell him a joke or tell him something interesting about Patton or Logan.

The walk comes to an end and Virgil is surprised to find himself a bit disappointed that it’s over. This is so fucking weird. What has his life become?

“I really enjoyed this time with you,” Roman says and once again Virgil finds his face heating up.

“Uh, y-yeah, me t-too. Wait no, I-I mean with… with y-you,” he says, letting out a groan at his own fucking stupidity. Why the fuck is he this way?

Roman laughs and Virgil’s stomach dances.

“It’s okay, I get what you’re saying. See you soon, okay?” He says and then he’s leaving, Virgil watches him for a few moments before tearing his gaze away and forcing himself to enter his apartment. He is not going to allow himself to come off as some creeper.

He’s changing into his pajamas, stifling multiple yawns when he feels the familiar tingling feeling on the back of his hand.

He looks down to find, written in sparkly red ink, _Goodnight, sleep well._

Wow, Roman is such a softie.

 

* * *

 

Roman doesn’t go home right away, instead, he walks to a nearby flower shop. He gets there ten minutes before they close and he feels a teensy weensy bit guilty at the way any light in the cashier’s eyes die when they see him but he promises that he’ll be quick.

He grabs a small bouquet of beautiful red flowers before quickly paying and rushing back out and returning to Virgil’s apartment. He won’t wake him, the quiet boy was clearly exhausted.

Instead, he leaves the bouquet outside Virgil’s front door, smiling to himself at his work.

He’d discovered something quite surprising during his time with Virgil.

He loves holding the boy’s hand, it leaves him feeling giddy and even flustered. Which is ridiculous considering he’s been in contact with two of his soulmates since he was a little boy and now he’s eighteen. He’s done a lot more than holding hands.

And yet, when he holds Virgil’s hand, he’s left feeling like a young middle schooler all over again, new at romance, butterflies in his stomach. The old familiar mix of nerves and excitement that he hasn’t had to deal with in a very long time.

He looks down at the hand Virgil was holding not too long ago and smiles, he can’t wait to hold that boy’s hand again.

 

* * *

 

Virgil is in a hurry, he overslept, it’s 8:50 and the library opens at 9, if he doesn’t hurry, he’ll be late.

He roughly flings his door open, ready to run as fast as he can but freezes when notices something bright red resting at his feet. He drops into a crouch, staring in shock when realizes that there’s a bouquet of flowers in front of his door.

Did someone leave this here by accident?

He checks the bright yellow card and finds that it reads, To Virgil from Roman.

The hell?

Why would he leave Virgil flowers? When did he leave Virgil flowers? He didn’t have flowers when Virgil saw him last night.

They’re beautiful.

Acting as if he’s afraid the flowers with bite, he slowly reaches forwards. With his pointer finger, he very gently touches one of the petals. It’s soft, so frail and yet so beautiful. Just like so many things in this world. If it’s beautiful, it’s easily destroyed.

He should get up, he doesn’t have much time left but he can’t seem to get his body to move. He just stares at the flowers, fascinated by them.

No one has ever given him flowers.

And he’s only ever bought them for his mother’s grave. Those flowers were always sad, meaning something dark and connected to death.

But these flowers?

They’re something good, he can feel it.

Oh god, he’s lost his fucking mind.

He carefully picks up the flowers, holding the stem and keeping his hands far away from the gorgeous petals. He needs to be gentle. He doesn’t want these flowers to end up like everything else he touches. He doesn’t want to ruin it.

He leaves the flowers on the old splintering wooden table he found on the side of the road. He hurries towards his closet with all of his paint supplies, pulling out the biggest cup he has, one he uses for paint water. Luckily he obsessively keeps it clean so he doesn’t have to wash it out. He does anyway, wasting even more time but he wants to be careful.

He fills it about halfway with water he gets from the kitchen sink. After putting the flowers in the cup, he carries it to his window, placing the cup of flowers on the windowsill. Virgil kneels on the floor before dropping his chin on top of his folded arms resting on top of the edge of the windowsill.

He can’t stop staring at the flowers.

There’s something just so mesmerizing about the flowers. He wonders what type of flower it is. He’d look it up on his phone but the broken remains are still littered across his floor. It doesn’t really matter, it’s beautiful anyway.

He lets out a disappointed sigh before forcing himself to his feet and away from the flowers. He can’t afford to miss work. Can’t ever afford to do anything.

 

* * *

 

He throws his body through the doors, arms slamming uncomfortably against the glass window and ribs screaming from where he hits them against the door but he quickly shrugs it off and rushes into the library.

His boss, Irene sits at checkout, looking over some paperwork. Virgil glances up at the clock above the computers, letting out a sigh when he sees that he’s two minutes late. He thought maybe he had run fast enough to make it on time but guess not.

“Virgil,” Irene calls, her grey hair pulled up into a bun, her big dark blue cat eyes glasses hanging off her nose. “I didn’t know it was even possible for you to be late.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

She waves her hand around, “Oh, don’t worry about it. Just don’t make it a regular occurrence.”

He nods his head, “Of course.” He then speedwalks into the back room, dropping his backpack off and getting to work, starting with sorting the books from the dropoff box.

Lifting, the heavy stacks of books which really does not help with the pain, he carefully puts them on top of a cart which he wheels out into the rows of bookshelves, searching for the book’s homes. It’s always so frustrating, organizing the books and making everything look nice right before a bunch of people show up and ruin all his hard work.

In fact, a few people are already here which is insane, who goes to the library this early? He sincerely doubts that there’d ever been a big enough emergency that would warrant going to the library before you’ve even eaten lunch.

The wheel of cart catches against of table, causing the cause to jolt to a start before tilting and falling on its side.

“Motherfucker,” he says under his breath, annoyance radiating from every part of his body. Of course, of course, his life just needs to be made the teensiest bit more complicated. He drops to the floor with a groan, his chest aching at the sudden movement. He wishes human bodies didn't take so long to heal, the pain makes him think too much of that night. He shakes his head before beginning to gather up the books. 

“Need some help?” A voice asks.

Time to put on his fake ass customer service voice, “Oh no, sir, don’t worry about it. Thank you for the offer though.”

“Really, Virgil, I want to help.”

Oh fuck.

He looks up from his spot on the floor to find Logan smiling up above him. Why are these weirdos always smiling? What do they have to be so happy about?

“Logan.”

“Virgil,” he says, smile somehow growing even wider which how the fuck. Logan quietly kneels down next to him, starting to sort the books in separate stacks, placing them on the table that Virgil had rammed the cart into earlier.

“Uh, thanks.”

“It’s no problem.”

Oh yes, it fucking is. This is his job that he fucked up at, he should be the only one cleaning up this mess. And Logan seems the type to always have something important to do. Virgil would rather die than be a bother, getting in the way of Logan’s plans.

He stays silent.

Logan stands before gripping the handles of the cart and very easily lifting it into the air, placing it about a foot from the table that caused this whole problem in the first place. He then begins moving the books onto it.

Virgil quickly scrambles to his feet, refusing to let Logan do all of his work.

Once finished transferring the books to the cart from the table, he grabs the handles and surges off into another aisle, hoping Logan doesn’t follow him.

He does which of course he does. Virgil’s like just can’t ever be simple, there have to be more and more complications. And now Logan is here, making it impossible for Virgil to focus on his work.

“How have you been?” He asks.

“Fine,” Virgil immediately replies, he knows this game all too well.

“Are you only just saying that?”

Virgil comes to stop with a start, head whipping behind him to stare at Logan, shock pouncing onto him, filling his body and giving him goosebumps.

“W-what?”

“It’s just that you said it so quickly, almost like you said it without thinking. I was wondering if it was just the easier response. If it’s okay, I’d like to hear how you’re truly feeling.”

What the fuck? What the hell are these people? Were they kept away in a basement for the like eighteen years, being protected and lied to about how the world really is? That would certainly explain the mystery that is Patton and that smile of his.

“No really, I’m fine, you don’t need to worry.”

Logan’s lips turn into a frown and Virgil turns away, choosing to ignore the problem like he always does.

“Do you know where the astronomy section is?” Logan asks and Virgil shoots him a skeptic look.

“You practically live here and you don’t know where the astronomy section is?”

His lips quirk up slightly at the edges but otherwise, he keeps a perfectly straight face, “I know, I just haven’t been able to find it.”

“Liar,” Virgil accuses.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ugh fine, I’ll take you. I was heading there anyway,” he says, gesturing to the last couple books on the cart that were hidden away on the bottom shelf, all of which are conveniently astronomy books. Virgil is pretty sure Logan planned that but he’s already called him a liar (which he totally is), he’s not going to accuse him of anything else.

“Thank you, Virgil, that’s very kind of you.”

“It’s my job.”

“Still, I’m grateful.” Virgil rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything further, he’s already been talking way too much, he doesn’t want to be annoying. That is if Virgil is lucky enough to not have already annoyed Logan. He’s probably already been bothering him and he’s just being polite and not saying anything.

They slowly make their way to the astronomy section and when they do, Virgil gestures towards it, about to leave when Logan grabs his elbow, “What time is your lunch break?”

“Uh, 12:30… w-why?”

“Will you come back here then?”

“Um, okay.”

 

* * *

 

At exactly 12:30 Virgil makes his way back to the astronomy section, surprised to find Logan still there after so long, he figured he would’ve left by now, figured he didn’t actually really care.

He looks up from a book he was reading, “You came.”

“Yep.”

“I wasn’t sure you would,” he says, putting a dark blue bookmark at his place before closing the book.

“You asked me to,” Virgil says with a shrug, he wasn’t just gonna be a total dick and leave him waiting.

Logan begins cleaning up the small mess he’d made while he waited, organizing his pens and pencils before putting them away in a case and then putting that in his backpack. He gathers up four humongous books in his arms before flashing Virgil a friendly smile and making his way to check out.

He rents the four books which are due in three but that doesn’t make Logan pause and rethink his plans, instead, he just nods and tucks them away into his backpack. Virgil doesn’t know how on earth he’s planning on reading four entire books that are that thick, how he thinks he could possibly have entire time for that. He’s a smart guy though, maybe he’ll be able to even if it seems impossible to Virgil.

He turns to Virgil, “Come with me?”

“Where to?”

“You’ll have to see.” Now Virgil really isn’t a fan of surprises, he’d prefer everything go exactly to plan. He’d prefer a life where he could perfectly pick out everything that is going to happen.

He nods his head anyway, following Logan out of the library.

He expects the walk to be like the ones he’s taken with Roman. Him awkwardly panicking and staying silent while the other speaks so he doesn’t have to. But Logan doesn’t do that, he just lets the quiet wash over them, lets them walk in a comfortable silence.

Eventually, they reach a food truck and Virgil’s jaw drops from shock. This… was not what he was expecting. Logan does not remotely seem like the type to eat food from a food truck, he’s all too fancy for that.

“What are we doing here?”

“I love this place,” he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“You do?”

“I do! Now I’m hungry, how about you?”

“No, I’m good.”

Logan makes a look Virgil can’t read, tilting his head before nodding. “All right, well if you’re sure. Wait here while I order,” he says before taking off towards the truck.

Logan returns with one big drink and two burritos., “Now before you say anything, Virgil, these are both for me.”

They take a seat on a nearby green plastic bench and Virgil awkwardly distracts himself with poking his fingers through the holes in the bench.

Again, they sit there in a nice peaceful silence until Logan makes an embarrassed sound. Virgil looks up to find that he’s already eaten one of the burritos and has started on the second, taking on a few bites. He looks slightly sick.

Logan shakes his head, letting out a sheepish laugh, “I did not think these burritos would be quite so large.”

“I thought you said you love this place,” Virgil says, rubbing his left arm, a nervous twitch he’d gained after that day.

“And I do but I have never actually ordered the burritos before today. I assumed that they would be around the same size as their tacos which I always order two of.”

“Okay?” He says, unsure of where this conversation is going.

“I know you said that you were not hungry but I would absolutely loathe to let good food go to waste. Would you finish it for me?”

He stares at him suspiciously, trying to see if this is some kind of trap. In his experience, someone just nicely offering him something has only ever yielded bad results but Logan’s offer seem genuine, his face showing not showing anything make Virgil think otherwise.

“Uh, okay, I guess.”

He takes the burrito and Logan smiles.

 

* * *

 

After lunch is over and Virgil has gone back to work, Logan is walking back to his dorm room feeling quite proud of himself.

He’d put a lot of thought into talking with Virgil. In the end, he had decided not to say much at all. The boy clearly wasn’t good at conversation and would most likely end up uncomfortable and feeling pressured if Logan had tried to push.

It was honestly luck that Logan was there when Virgil was working but boy was he glad that he decided to get a head start on that essay he’d been assigned yesterday.

And asking him to lunch was an impulse that he had followed on a whim.

When he had been waiting for Virgil, he’d barely spent any time studying as he had originally meant to. Instead, he sat there planning, asking himself questions like what sort of place would Virgil be most comfortable at. He’d chosen the food truck despite the fact he actually isn’t much of a fan of their food, thinking that perhaps Virgil would be more comfortable in a more casual setting.

He thinks that it worked.

And when Virgil refused any food, he simply bought more than he knew he could handle. A bit tricky he supposes but Virgil will be working all day and he doesn’t want the boy to starve himself, he could faint or something else much worse could happen.

Honestly, it was just wonderful spending time with Virgil. He hadn’t expected to enjoy the shy boy’s presence so much but now he finds himself yearning for even more time with him.

 

* * *

 

Virgil is exhausted.

He’d been an absolute idiot and procrastinated writing his essay so he had to stay up all night to finish it. It made his class much harder as he could barely stay awake, digging his nails into the palms of his hands just so he wouldn’t fall asleep. You’d think he’d be used to this after the countless times he’s stayed awake days at a time but he’s weak and desperately needs his sleep.

He spends most of class, trying to focus but his attention just keeps being pulled away, outside snow is falling. It’s been snowing all night and all morning, making it so the whole world has turned into a winter wonderland.

Virgil loves the snow but he tends to prefer watching it from indoors, that way he’s safe and warm.

Class ends and he’s pretty sure he learned absolutely nothing at all. Which fuck, he’s going to have reread his textbooks like a thousand times to make of for wasting all this time.

Virgil slowly trudges outside, an unhappy feeling in his chest.

He starts walking home when he hears a squeal of joy and pauses, looking around for the source. He finds a boy grabbing an armful of snow before throwing it up into the air and letting it fall down onto him. He jumps up and down, clapping his hands together.

Wait a minute, he knows that excitement.

The boy turns around, giving Virgil a clear look at his face and sure enough, it’s exactly who he thought it was. It’s Patton.

What’s he doing here? Virgil has never seen him around here before. Though he guesses that he could have just missed him, there are a lot of people leaving moving to and from classes that he very well could have just not noticed the boy in all the crowds.

It’s then that Patton notices Virgil and is rushing over. “Isn’t it beautiful?” He asks and Virgil nods, forcing a friendly grin on his face. He doesn’t want to scare him off.

“I just love the snow! It’s so much fun!”

“Y-yeah, it’s great.”

Patton lets out a giggle before saying, “I going to grab your hand now, okay?” He waits a moment for Virgil to protest but when he doesn’t, he does as he promised and drags Virgil away. They race through the snow, running but also both of them trying to be careful about slipping on any ice.

Patton leads him to a park.

“Uh, what are we doing here?”

“We’re going to play in the snow of course!” Patton says.

Patton lets go of Virgil before bending over and grabbing a handful of snow and lightly throwing it against Virgil. It hits his shoulder, most of it quickly falling back to the ground.

“Come on, Virgil, build a snowman with me!”

He’s so odd, Virgil doesn’t know what to make of him. Now granted, he hasn’t actually spent all that much time with Patton but Virgil doesn’t understand him in the slightest. He’s so unbelievably happy, it doesn’t seem real or possible.

He kinda likes that about him.

It’s refreshing.

Virgil grips onto his already stretched out sleeves, pulling them down to cover his hands so they hopefully won’t get too cold. If he’s being honest, he'd really rather just go inside but Patton just seems so excited and he doesn’t want to be rude. So apparently he’s building a snowman.

Patton starts on the bottom of the snowman, playfully commanding Virgil to begin on the middle. He nods his head before making a small snowball which he then begins to roll on the floor, collecting snow and making it larger.

It doesn’t take long for the snow to melt through Virgil’s coat, making his hands sting from the cold but he ignores it and just keeps working. It’s not that bad and he is not letting Patton down.

With a grunt, he lifts up the now huge snowman middle and drops it onto Patton’s finished work. Patton has done a much better job than Virgil. His snow is much smoother and cleaner while Virgil’s is all uneven and lumpy, bits of dirt and leaves stuck in the frozen parts.

Patton doesn’t seem to mind though, he just beams at Virgil, telling him what a great job he did.  
Patton is adamant that they work on the head together, saying something about sharing the hard work and making it worth it. Virgil doesn’t argue, simply kneels down and starts packing the snow together, as does Patton.

“Aren’t you just having _snow_ much fun, Virgil?” Patton says with a giggle.

“Y-yeah, it’s great,” he says, giving him a small awkward smile in return.

This just seems to make Patton even happier which Virgil didn’t think was possible but apparently, it is as his smile grows even more.

They carefully place the finished head on top and Patton lets out an excited squeal before dashing towards a tree where he’d hung his backpack off a branch. He starts searching through it before letting out an aha sound and pulling out a lunchbox which he grabs a huge carrot from.

Before Virgil knows it Patton is running back over to him and happily shoving the carrot into the snowman’s face. He then pulls off his bright blue and white striped scarf and wraps it around the snowman's neck. Well, it’s not so much a neck as a small gap between the head and the body.

“Okay, now we just need to find five rocks,” Patton announces before turning to Virgil. “First one to find them wins!” And then Patton is taking off again, determinedly combing through the snow.

Virgil only finds one decent looking rock before Patton is shouting that he won, coming back with five rocks, five rocks that are way nicer than the cracked and jagged one he had found. He doesn’t show it to Patton, dropping it to the ground when he isn’t looking.

He helps Patton add the eyes and three buttons before the two of them take a step back to admire their work. It’s a pretty good snowman. Patton had somehow managed to make it nice despite Virgil nearly ruining the whole thing.

“It looks perfect, don’t you think?”

Virgil nods, humming in agreement.

Virgil can genuinely say that he has no idea what the hell has been going on lately, why his life has been so fucking weird. But he can say while it’s bizarre as fuck, it’s also kinda nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... I did not mean for this chapter to be this long. Seriously I have no idea what happened and it's a bit of a mess. I just couldn't stop writing. It was insane.  
> Don't think this is gonna be the new norm, chapters are gonna be around the same length as usual. 
> 
> Hmm maybe this is my subconscious' way of making up for how short last chapter was.
> 
> Also since this chapter was just a humongous monster I had a hard time editing so I probably missed some typos or grammar errors so please tell me if you see any, thanks. 
> 
> Well hope you enjoyed, I'm not normally a fluff writer, I'm more for the angst so it might not be good idk.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot has been going on and Virgil has been left to think.  
> Meanwhile, there's going to be a party.

Virgil is pretty sure he’s losing it.

Nothing makes any sense.

Last night Logan had somehow convinced Virgil to go stargazing with him, they stayed out there for hours, finding the constellations and just talking. Roman dragged him out to the park the other day to watch a group of actors perform scenes from Shakespeare plays. And just this morning Patton had begged him to take a break from his studies and get hot chocolate. Patton got an ungodly amount of whipped cream on his, it ended up getting all over his face, dotting his nose. Patton just laughed which made Virgil laugh.

Virgil can’t remember ever spending this much time with people, laughing this much.

His mom was the last person in his life to ever care and now there are these people so hellbent on proving to him that they care, that they’re here to stay.

It all feels like a dream.

Not the good kind. It feels like one of the dreams where his mom was still alive, cooking him dinner and kissing his forehead, tucking him in for bed. And when he woke up, he sobbed for hours and hours, pissing off his very first foster father. Making the man scream at him.

Those dreams were what led to him hitting Virgil for the first time. It spiraled after that. One hit became two and two became a punch and a kick. Before he knew it, Virgil was being thrown around and the man’s violent behavior didn’t surprise him in the slightest.

No one shouting at him or beating him was a surprise anymore.

Sometimes they would be nice for the first few days or if he was really lucky weeks. But they always turned on him. A broken plate or him saying something they classified as backtalk.

Virgil is just waiting for something to happen.

He accidentally fell into Roman on that day in the park, made him fall the ground and scrape his elbow against a rock. It looked like it hurt a lot. Roman just laughed it off when Virgil apologized, told him not to worry about it.

Normally that would be enough to set it off, to make them hate him and hurt him but they’re still playing nice. He’s not sure why they haven’t stopped playing this game and god does Virgil wish that they would just stop already.

Because this has been one of the best times of his life.

And he’s getting attached, he knows he is. Feels it deep inside, his heart beginning to slightly uncurl and letting their warms smiles and kind words slip in between the cracks. It doesn’t matter how much he tries to squeeze his insides, cover the cracks with cement or how he tries to crush these emotions and feelings because they’re strong like stone and he is weak and it will not break.

And he hates it because he knows that it’s only a matter of time.

Probably not even long now.

Not long till he sees that look of hate that every single person he has ever known has looked at him with, in his soulmate’s eyes and he thinks that that just might kill him.

He’s survived a lot but he thinks that that will finally be the brick on top of the tower that’s been building his whole life, it’s been rising higher and higher with every brick and block, getting more and more unstable, tilting and shaking.

But this brick, this brick will finally be the one to make it fall.

He wonders what it will look like.

Will it hurt?

Will there be blood?

A knock at his door shatters the walls trapping him away in his thoughts and he quietly rises to his feet from where he was curled up on the floor.

He peeks through the peephole to see Roman standing there. He knew it’d be one of them, they’re the only people who even know where he lives. He almost wishes it was somehow else, that that hot chocolate break was the last time he would see them and he could at the very least cling to that last happy memory, never having to see it all go downhill like he knows it will.

He shakes his head, imagining that he’s forcing the thoughts out like dust when you shake a blanket, flying up in the air and floating far far away from him.

He opens the door, forcing his lips upwards in what he hopes is a somewhat convincing smile. Roman smiles back so he imagines that it did a good enough job.

“Virgil!”

“Hi?”

“You’re covered in paint,” he says, eyes roaming over Virgil and staring at the large paint splotches. Virgil looks down and sure enough, Roman is right and there it is, covering his pants and shirt, not much on his skin though so at least there’s that.

“Yeah,” Virgil says, not sure of what else there is to say. Probably should’ve said something else, anything else would be better. Something more energetic and making it seem like Virgil is as engaged in this conversation as he should be and not letting his brain turn to wind and float up, following after his dusty thoughts.

Virgil moves to the side, silently offering to let Roman in. Roman takes it, walking in and Virgil closes the door, following after him. He’s a guest, you’re supposed to offer guests thing right? Like water or something. Virgil doesn’t have any clean glasses and he’s pretty sure the water is contaminated with something. He’s been living off the drinking fountains on campus, filling his water bottle and taking it with him everywhere he goes.

“How’s your day been?”

“Good.”

Roman is saying something else but Virgil is being a piece of shit that is he and spacing out, staring at Roman, probably creeping him out.

Roman is wearing a purple t-shirt. It seems too tight for him, showing off that his muscles, causing Virgil to come to the not at all surprising conclusion that Roman must work out. It fits him, he seems like the type of person to pride his body.

It’s a nice purple.

“Did you paint this?” Roman asks and Virgil jolts back to awareness in a panic. He quickly races towards Roman and when did he get all the way over here? Virgil roughly grabs the painting, yanking it off the ground where he left it and holding the back out towards Roman so he can’t see it.

“It’s nothing.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing, it’s lovely. I didn’t know you were such a talented artist!”

“I-It’s not… I-I wouldn’t say…” Virgil pauses as Roman’s words sink in. “Yeah?”

“Of course, it’s beautiful! You could be a famous painter, go down in the history books and everything!” He says and his expression is just so genuine so Virgil is at a lost for words. Roman is always saying things like this. As if he truly believes that Virgil is something great.

“It’s… it’s just a silly little hobby.”

“Then you should make it into something more! You’ve got something really special right there.”

“I-I’ve never shown anyone before.”

“Well then, I’m honored.”

There it is again, that strange tone of voice and those strange words. Honored? To see a stupid little painting? That Virgil of all people drew? It’s ridiculous.

But he says it like it makes perfect sense.

Virgil scoffs, “If you think it’s so great, why don’t you take it? I don’t have the space for it.” He expects this to be a perfect way to call Roman out on his lie but instead, Roman’s eyes light up and he smiles the biggest and happiest smile that Virgil has ever seen.

“Oh my god, really?” He asks, looking in awe at what’s happening.

“God, Princey, it’s like you’ve never seen a painting before,” Virgil says, actually handing it over to him because he’s not just going to back out and refuse to give it to him after he already offered it.

“Princey?”

Virgil’s face glows red when he realizes what he’s said, “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be, I like it,” Roman says, waving off Virgil’s apology. “And I’ve seen paintings before but this is no ordinary painting.”

“Thanks.” Because what else is he supposed to say to that?

“Anyway, I do actually have a reason for randomly showing up at your house. Logan and I need your help.”

“Help? With what?”

“It’s Patton’s birthday next Friday, November fifteenth, and we want to throw him a surprise party!”

A surprise party, how fairytale. It’s something he’s never been a part of himself, none of the kids at school would ever invite him to their parties and he never had anyone he wanted to throw a party for. He’d see them in movies and shows, people hiding behind couches and jumping out, laughing. It always seemed like one of those things that only happen on tv.

“Wait, people actually do those?”

That seems to surprise Roman, his mouth opens then closes then opens again to only end up shut again. He looks like one of the fish that Virgil use to go to the mall and to watch for hours at a time. There was this one bright orange fish that would always get right up close to the glass and stare back at Virgil, its tiny mouth wide open.

Roman recovers from his shock fairly quickly, “Yeah, course they do. They’re fun and we need your help planning. Patton loves parties but he’ll love this one so much more if you help so will you? Please?”

He should say no, start distancing himself so the inevitable fallout won’t be so bad. “O-okay, i-if you insist.” Goddamnit, why is he this way? He’s only making things worse for himself.

And while he is such an astonishingly fucking humongous idiot, Roman smiles and he can’t quite stop himself from caring. “Great! Oh, this is so exciting! Are you busy tomorrow?”

“I’ve got a shift at work.”

“Okay, when are you off?”

“Two.”

“PM?”

“No, AM. Of course, PM. Come on, Princey,” he says, rolling his eyes. Virgil freezes when he realizes what he just said, breath catching in his throat, making it feel almost like he’s choking. Virgil is about to apologize.

But then Roman is laughing, “Okay fair, that was a pretty stupid question.”

“W-well a-at least you can admit i-it.”

That earns another laugh and it causes some kind of feeling Virgil has never felt before. Roman smiles and says, “Okay so Logan and I will pick you up after your shift and we can start party planning!”

“Uh yeah, okay.”

“Great! I’ve got to go cause I’ve totally been putting off writing an essay for my English class and I’ll be so fucked if I don’t get it done,” Roman says and weirdly enough Virgil feels the slightest bit disappointed that he’s leaving so soon.

He doesn’t voice this thought instead just nodding and saying, “Yeah ‘kay, bye.”

Roman looks like he wants to say or do something but he just keeps smiling before waving and letting himself out with a goodbye.

Virgil isn’t sure how he feels about all of this.

 

* * *

 

Roman quietly slipped into Logan’s dorm room, not bothering to knock. He never does, he doesn’t need to. In fact, Roman is pretty sure him, Logan, and Patton have never once knocked instead of just letting themselves in. They grew up close, practically inseparable, perfectly in sync with each other. There was no point in knocking, none of them cared. Plus he doesn’t have to worry about Logan’s roommate anymore since he moved out weeks ago.

“Logan, you here?”

He doesn’t find Logan, instead, he literally runs into a very hyper Patton. “Roman! Virgil is so cute!”

Roman is honestly a little bit caught off guard but he’s also used to Patton endless enthusiasm. “Yeah sunshine, he is.”

Patton giggles at the nickname, pulling Roman into a tight hug, squeezing him with all his strength. “I missed you!”

“I saw you this morning.”

“Exactly, that’s much too long!” He says with a pout.

“You’re right, I guess it is. Now, are you going to tell me what’s got you so excited?”

“Virgil and I got hot chocolate today,” he says with an excited squeal.

This just leaves Roman even more confused causing him to raise an eyebrow. “Yeah, Pat, I know. You sent me a text and at least a dozen pictures.”

“Did you see the one where he had a whipped cream mustache!?”

“Yes, you spammed that one. Logan called me to ask if your phone was malfunctioning.”

“It’s just so amazing, don’t you think Ro? After so long, we finally found him and he’s great!” Patton says, moving away to unceremoniously drop himself onto Logan’s bed.

“Yeah, it's great. Where’s Logan?”

“He ran out of crofters so he’s running some errands. He was in a bit of a jam.”

Roman nods his head, letting out a hum of acknowledgment before carefully placing Virgil’s gift on Logan’s bedside table and joining Patton on the bed. Patton curls to make room for Roman, practically ending up in Roman’s lap but he doesn’t matter. This is nothing new, Patton loves cuddles.

“Ooh, what’s that?” Patton asks and Roman tilts his head to see him staring at Virgil’s painting.

“Oh, I just visited Virgil and he gave me that.”

Patton lets out a gasp, leaning almost entirely out of the bed, making Roman keeping a grip on Patton’s arm to make sure he doesn’t fall, Patton’s other arm reaching out towards the painting. He grabs it before falling backwards and right into Roman, knocking the breath out of his lungs.

By the time Roman recovers, he finds Patton staring at the panting in wonder, cooing and whispering words of awe. “Did Virgil draw this?”

“Yeah, it’s amazing, isn’t it? I didn’t know he was such a good artist.”

“Wow,” Patton says, sounding breathless.

“I know right,” Roman says, feeling just a touch bit bitter over the fact. He hates the fact that he's only just now learning that Virgil is an artist, learning anything about Virgil at all so late in his life. They'd missed out on so much and he still has no idea why. He's beginning to think that Virgil has no reason at all. That he just cruelly decided to stay away.

These thoughts only serve to cause the pit of rage in Roman's gut to grown. The opposite of what he's been trying to do, trying to push down, to bury deep inside. To smother it and let it die. 

“Do you think he’d paint something for me?” Patton asks, gently tracing his fingers over the dry paint. Patton's voice pulls him out of his head and back into the real world, immediately making him feel warm and happier. 

“I’m sure he would.”

Roman smiles, Patton has just unknowingly given him a genius idea to make his birthday that much better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Party planning begins and ends just as quickly.

True to his word, at the end of Virgil’s shift, he finds Logan and Roman waiting against the glass doors at the front, having a quiet conversation. Virgil decides to wait a few minutes before approaching them so they can finish talking. He doesn’t want to interrupt, they might get mad.

Eventually, Roman looks up and sees him, waving Virgil over.

Virgil immediately rushes over, worries about making them wait hanging heavily in his head, swinging and slamming against his other thoughts and making it harder for him to focus on anything else. All his other thoughts shifting away and out of sight.

He’s worried that he’s upset Roman and Logan somehow, choosing to leave a larger distance in between them than he usually does. This way if they try to grab him, he’ll have time to pull away.

“Virgil, how have you been?” Logan asks.

“Fine.”

He frowns at that and Virgil’s blood becomes ice, slipping out through his skin and spreading all across his body. It reaches the floor and it freezes him to it, making it impossible for him to move even an inch. So much for his escape plan.

“Are you sure? You look a bit pale,” Logan says.

“I’m always pale.”

He lets out a surprised laugh, “Yes, I suppose that’s true.” His laugh is like the sun, warm and shining down onto Virgil, melting away the ice, letting him breathe.

“So you guys ready to go?” Roman asks impatiently, pulling himself up and away from the wall he was leaning against, “We’ve got lots of planning to do.”

Roman takes Logan’s hand and the three of them head out, Logan and Roman are talking about musicals and all the behind the scenes work while Virgil is barely even listening. He keeps enough of his attention on their conversation so he doesn’t end up embarrassing himself in case they ask him a question or something but most of his attention is on those around him, keeping a watchful eye on the crowds.

It’s been a while since he’s been with any of them at the same time. Lately, he’s only ever seen them by themselves. He suspects it’s a tactic to not overwhelm him which he appreciates but it’s only made this moment that much more terrifying. He’s not used to this. They could so easily turn on him and then he’d be outnumbered.

This could take such a terrible turn.

The entire walk is a war in his head, thoughts clashing against each other in vicious battle. He doesn’t even realize right away that they’ve stopped, reached a building. Roman and Logan are already inside, Roman waving for him to follow.

There’s an awkward moment where they are walking towards the elevator and Virgil pauses, stomach acting like a hyperactive child in a bouncy house. He absolutely loathes elevator with a fucking passion. And being trapped in such a small place with both Logan and Roman sounds like a nightmare.

He’s pretty sure that he’s going to puke but Logan notices his hesitation and quickly redirects his path to the stairs and Virgil breathes a breath of relief. They make their way up the stairs and to Logan’s dorm room.

As he unlocks the door, he says, “Patton has classes all day and then dinner with his mother so we do not need to be concerned about him unearthing the surprise.”

They slowly file into the room, Virgil three steps behind and he feels that stare of Logan’s that seems to always be there these days. His eyes burning into Virgil’s skin, making needles prick against his the inside of his skull and causing alarm bells to go off.

There’s something so strange and unnerving about Logan. Virgil enjoys, no, he might as well be honest with himself, he loves spending time with Logan. But he also terrifies Virgil. And not in the way everyone else in the world scares him. Not in the way where he’s constantly on edge and worried that he’s going to snap and just attack Virgil. Well, there’s that too, of course, but that’s not all.

There’s this knowledge behind those dark blue eyes of his and you can see it when you look at him. It’s obvious, you look at him with just one glance and he gives off this smart kid vibe. If you want to be more superficial you could look at his glasses and perfectly styled hair, his button-up shirt, and the tie, you’d look at him and see a nerd.

But there’s so fucking much more there, more to him. It’s not just that he’s smart, it’s that he’s a goddamn brilliant genius and he’s wise… and he… he knows things. Virgil isn’t sure what he’s figured out exactly and how much of it but Virgil knows that Logan knows something. Which probably means Patton and Roman know too and that… that is just something Virgil cannot deal with.

Not in the slightest.

“So I was thinking that we really have to go all out for Pat’s party.” Oh fuck, what does that mean? How big is this thing gonna be?

“It is the first birthday that Virgil will be participating in,” Logan says, pulling a notebook out from a drawer and grabbing a pen out of a silver metal cup on top of his desk. “It does seem cause for celebration.”

Cause for celebration? What a strange world they must live in, shiny and full of glittering lies. Beautiful but fake. He wonders if he would prefer to join them in their world. Would he prefer to be real or to live thinking he’s happy when he’s not?

When he was a child, he used to wish for real. For everyone to stop hiding behind their pretty words and false smiles. To tell Virgil the truth of this new foster instead of being told stupid lies like “This is your new home” or “I’m sure this one will work out” or “This family is really nice, you’ll like them”. Promises that even they knew weren’t true.

Still, he’s not sure which is better and which is worse.

“Exactly! You know he’s even more excited this year because of it,” Roman says, sounding ecstatic at the fact.

And Virgil just doesn't know what to make of that.

He should probably say something, anything would be better than this awful, awkward silence where they stare at him, expectant of something but Virgil doesn’t know what they want. He could simply nod his head maybe make a joke.

Or he could shout and scream, tell them how fucking stupid they sound. Ask them where the hell they get off acting like he’s important.

He stays silent, keeping his eyes on the floor.

Staying quiet is always the safest option, even though he hates it. Even though the silence somehow always seems to be so much louder than if he just said something, anything.

He hears a sigh and his mind latches onto that noise, intensifying every little thing. The breeze from the AC that was gently blowing against him has now turned into a storm, making his head pound. The quiet clicking noise coming from Logan’s neighbor becomes one of the loudest things Virgil has ever heard, slamming through his ears and ramming right into his brain. He imagines the noise cutting into his brain and blood spilling out, filling up his skull and dripping out from his ears and nose.

He looks up to find Logan glaring daggers at Roman who is pouting at his partner’s clear disapproval.

Okay, Virgil really doesn’t know what’s going on. Are they having some sort of fight? It didn’t seem like they were arguing earlier… but Virgil wasn't really listening. Great, once again he has caused problems and can’t even begin to try to fix it because he has no idea what he did wrong because he wasn’t fucking listening.

“Roman had an idea he wished to discuss with you, Virgil,” Logan says, voice strained and wearing a fake smile.

Roman is thoroughly distracted, turning to Virgil excitedly, “Do you remember the painting you gave me?”

“Uh, yeah?” He says, a wave of nerves washing over him.

“Well, Patton saw it and totally loved it. He would also love it if you would paint something for him. I know it would mean a lot.”

“Oh.” That’s probably not a good enough reply but just like so many other times in his life, Virgil just doesn’t know what to say. He probably will never be able to find the right words. When he was little he used to think that he just figured out the right thing to say then maybe he could somehow diffuse all those violent situations he found himself in. He never managed it.

“Oh,” Roman repeats, expression unreadable but Virgil doesn’t like it.

“I-it’s just th-that I’ve… I’ve never Painted anything for a-anyone. I-It’ll probably be really ugly.”

“Patton would love it anyway,” Logan says. “You simply taking the time to create something for him would make him so incredibly happy. It could be the ugliest painting in the world and it would still be one of his most treasured possessions.”

“M-maybe but I don’t w-wanna r-ruin his birthday.”

“You won’t,” Logan says, voice soothing and sounding so sure of himself.

A part of Virgil still wants to refuse or maybe just beg them not to make him but he doesn’t really want to. And he figures if he did then they would probably end up hating him and he really really doesn’t want to take that chance.

And it’s stupid but somehow Logan’s words have actually made him kinda almost want to do it.

“Okay,” Virgil says, forcing himself to smile and it must be convincing because Logan smiles back.

Logan sits himself down on his great big black leather desk chair, pulling a notebook out a drawer and grabbing a pen from a metal cup full of them. Roman follows after him, making himself comfortable on Logan’s bed.

Virgil decided to sit on the floor, back pressed up against the wall, right next to the door for an escape if needed. An emotion flitters across Roman’s face but it’s gone as soon as it came. To be honest, Virgil isn’t sure it was even there to begin with so he so shakes it off, pretending it doesn’t make him nervous.

Logan is writing down idea and plans, searching up company phone numbers and writing that down too. He seems like an astute party planner. Both of them do, like they actually have an idea of what they’re doing, unlike Virgil.

“Have you guys done this before?” Virgil asks, shifting awkwardly when they both turn to stare at him. “You really seem like you know what you’re doing.”

Roman restlessly taps his bright red sneaker against the wooden post at the foot of the bed, “Oh yeah, we’ve done this loads of times.”

“You have never made any plans for a party before, Virgil?” Logan asks.

Virgil can’t help it, he lets out a snort of laughter. “Yeah no.”

For some reason that leads to an agonizingly long moment of awkward silence where they stare intently at him and Virgil is left mulling over his words. Was that the wrong thing to say? It seems like it but he’s not sure where he went wrong.

Logan recovers the quickest, clearing his through and saying, “I thought that perhaps it would be a good idea for us to make some of Patton’s favorite foods for the event.”

“Ooh yeah, good idea, Lo,” Roman says as he takes off his white jacket, hanging it on a metal coat rack by the door. “Jane can help us when she gets here.”

“Jane?” Virgil asks.

Roman pauses, glancing over at him, looking annoyed. “Ah right, Jane is Patton’s mom but you, of course, wouldn’t know that.”

Virgil’s mind splits apart. Half panicking over the fact that it didn’t fucking occur to him that family would be coming to this thing. How many of them? Will he have to speak with them? Do they even know who he is? Do they hate him for what he’s put Roman, Logan, and Patton through? He’d deserve it if they did. He’s been acting like a real piece of shit.

The other half is freezing in terror at the hostile tone in Roman’s voice.

“Well duh, we’ve only just met. It’s not like you know anything about me,” Virgil says, admittedly a touch defensive and oh god, he’s only just going to make this worse.

That was definitely the wrong thing to say.

Roman’s face twists and Virgil’s heart stops. “And whose fault is that?” Roman spits.

Virgil knows exactly whose fault it is.

It’s Virgil’s just like it always is.

He supposes that this is it, the moment he’s been dreading.

That thought sets something off in Virgil, so many emotions spreading through him, making him so fucking confused and angry and explosive.

He’s not sure why he says it.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Maybe he thinks it will be easier this way. Shout and scream at them, make it seem like he couldn’t give a shit about what they think of him. Pretend that he’s not so fucking terrified of this moment. Maybe it’ll be easier if they don’t realize how much of a coward he truly is. Though he’s sure it shines in his eyes.

Virgil’s overreaction has only served to upset Roman even further. His eyebrows dip down into a scowl, bright white teeth flashing. “It means that it’s like you don’t even fucking care, like you never have.”

Virgil is about to say something, he doesn’t know what but he can feel that the words have a heavy cruel weight to them when Logan pushes to his feet, slamming a hand against his desk, causing Virgil to violently flinch away from him, hands shaking.

“That’s enough,” Logan says, tone sharp and deadly. He looking at Roman but Virgil knows his anger is directed at him. Virgil is one insulting his partner after all.

And suddenly he needs to get away, get out.

“Um, I-I’ve got t-to go b-but Roman I-I’ll have the painting down in t-time for the party. J-just tell me when and where. See ya later.” Virgil says, giving them a wave with one hand as the other anxiously searches for the doorknob behind him.

He hears one of them calling his name but he’s already gone, rushing down into the hallway and towards the stairwell.

 

* * *

 

“What the hell was that?” Logan asks, letting his anger come out full throttle now that Virgil is gone and he needn’t worry about frightening him.

“What do you mean?” Roman asks, still watching the door where Virgil disappeared through.

“You were completely out of line, purposely attempting to start a fight!”

“No, I wasn’t,” Roman shouts stubbornly. Logan lets out a growl, Roman had been behaving completely inappropriate and he refuses to admit it, choosing instead to act like a child throwing a tantrum.

“Then explain your sound reasoning behind that ridiculous scene that just took place.”

Roman stomps his foot and Logan once again makes the comparison of an upset toddler. “I already said what the fucking problem is. He doesn’t give a shit about us! It’s like we’re some stupid game to him. He ignored us for years or did you just forget about that!? And he’ll probably do it again once he gets tired of whatever it is he’s doing! We’ve been trying so goddamn hard and he doesn’t care! How does that not piss you off!?”

“You do not really believe that,” Logan says, running a hand through his hair, suddenly feeling incredibly exhausted.

“What? Of course, I do! Why else would I be saying it?”

“If you truly did believe that we meant nothing to Virgil, that he plans on dropping us as soon as it’s convenient to him then you would not have been trying so hard to as you said woo him. You are simply frustrated at our situation. As I am but we cannot take it out on Virgil.”

“Why not!? He’s the one causing all the problems, he’s the one that ignored us no matter how much we begged him to answer!” Roman screams.

“And that is upsetting but we do not understand Virgil or his circumstance, his reasoning for such choices is still a mystery to us,” Logan says, reaching towards Roman, intending to place a comforting hand on his shoulder but when he gets close Roman jerks away, slapping Logan’s hand away.

“Just because you decided out of nowhere that Virgil is fucking traumatized or whatever so you can forgive him doesn’t mean it’s true!”

Logan pauses, anger welling up inside him, wanting to burst and explode. “You need to take a moment, focus on your breathing and then I will continue this conversation with you because I will not be speaking with you as you continue to let yourself be lost in your fucking anger.”

His suggestion only angers Roman more but he does as he’s told, close his eyes and taking deep breaths, hands clenched in fists at his sides.

Logan watches him shift from his screaming rage to something much calmer before suddenly tears and dripping down Roman’s cheeks and Logan’s heart clenches painfully at the sight.

“I’m sorry, I’m just so angry and hurt and we haven’t know Virgil long but I already care so much about him but he’s so… distant. It’s almost like he isn’t even there most of the time.”

Logan pulls him into a hug, stroking his hair and doing his best to be comforting. He’s not the best when it comes to emotions, often freezing, unsure of what to do, how to help but over the years he’s gotten better when it comes to his soulmates.

“It’s okay, Roman. You’re allowed to be upset, I am too. But we need to handle this with a calm kind demeanor. Did you see how Virgil reacted as soon as he realized we were angry? When I hit the desk? You’re right when you say I do not truly know what is the matter with Virgil, that my hypothesis could be wrong but I do not think it is.”

“Oh shit, he didn’t deserve any of that.”

“No, he did not. We will have to apologize the next time we see him,” Logan agrees.

“Yeah.”

The two of them make their way to Logan’s bed, curling up together, arms wrapped around each other. Logan lets the two of them come down that mountain of emotions for a little while, letting Roman relax. Logan knows that eventually, they will have to thoroughly work through all of these conflicting emotions and thoughts but he supposes that can wait until they’ve actually gotten through the situation.

“Roman? Do you remember when we first met Virgil? You accidentally hit him and when he cried out, he sounded as if he was in pain but you barely touched him. He said that he fell down a flight of stairs. I do not believe him.”

“I-is that one of the reasons you think something bad happened to him?” Roman asks, head lowered in shame, choosing to grab the multicolored quilt Patton had given Logan and wrapping it around the two of them instead of looking Logan in the eyes.

“Yes.”

 

* * *

 

Virgil is doing what he does best, ignoring his problems and pretending that that whole thing with Roman didn’t just happen. He’s currently staring at a blank canvas, trying to figure out what the fuck he should paint. What kind of painting would Patton like? Virgil has no idea. After all, Roman was right when he said that Virgil doesn’t know anything.

No, Virgil is not thinking about that. He is painting. Yes, that is what he is doing despite the fact that he hasn’t actually painted anything. He hasn’t even picked which paints to use. He’ll figure it out, he has to. He practically promised Logan and Roman that he’d do this and there’s no backing out now, especially after that whole fiasco. He's bent awkwardly over the blank canvas which is killer on his ribs but he ignores it. He's needs to focus on actually painting something.

He knows that he normally tends to draw more… dismal paintings but he can’t do that for Patton. He’s literally the sweetest warmest person Virgil has ever known and he can’t give Patton something that’s the complete opposite of that.

And he is not giving Patton a bad birthday gift. He has got to do a good job. Roman and Logan are already so mad at him and they’ve probably already told Patton all about what he did wrong so he really can’t mess up.

Okay, okay he can do this. He just needs somehow create a beautiful work of art so he doesn’t ruin Patton’s birthday and make him hate him.

All right, what reminds him of Patton?

These past couple weeks, ever since Virgil met him, whenever he sees a bright happy smile he often finds himself thinking of Patton and that aura of joy that just seems to follow him around wherever he goes. Virgil doesn’t really know all that much about Patton but he does know that he’s a good kind person with a lot of love to give.

Love he’s wasting on Virgil.

He doesn’t realize immediately when he’s begun sketching. It takes a second or two for his brain to catch up. And then he can see it in his head, knows what to paint. It may fucking suck and he may regret it but at the very least he knows. It’s hopefully probably better than nothing.

 

* * *

 

Virgil doesn’t really see the others for the next week.

He sees Logan across the street one day, face buried in a book. Virgil quickly ducks into a building to hide from him. He waits for what must’ve been twenty or so minutes, refusing to leave his hiding place until he’s sure Logan is gone.

He runs into Patton who he ends up having a ten minute conversation with. Well, not really a conversation. He can’t really find himself to say anything at all, instead just listening to Patton ramble on about his day. It’s probably best considering he might’ve said something and ruined the surprise.

The worst is when Roman is waiting for him outside the library. Virgil attempts to sneak away through the back door but unfortunately Roman sees him and is rushing over to him, waving and shouting his name.

Goddamnit.

“Virgil hey,” he says awkwardly as he brushes his hair out of his eyes. “I needed to talk to you.”

Oh god oh god oh god.

“W-what about?”

“Patton’s part is tomorrow. We’ve been trying to talk to you about but couldn’t find you.”

“Oh… y-yeah, I’ve been busy.”

“Okay, so Jane is distracting Patton, continuing their tradition where they watch all their favorite movies. They’ll be watching at the hotel she’s staying in where we’ve secretly rented out one of their conference rooms. She’ll lead him to us where we’ll be waiting to shout surprise,” Roman says, handing him a card made of a thick type of paper. Virgil finds that it has all of the party information written across it.

“Okay,” Virgil says staring at his feet.

“Also, about what I said-” Roman begins to say but is cut off by Virgil.

“Well, gotta go, see ya then.”And just like before, acting just like the coward he is, he’s running away again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter took so long but to be honest updating is probably going to become more inconsistent. 
> 
> I have a bunch of doctor appointments and procedures and all this bs and school has gotten fucking insane. And I'm going to a writing conference so I also need to be working on some of my original content. And writers block just decided that that wasn't all enough and wanted to make things even harder. 
> 
> But don't worry i will continue to update.
> 
> Well, hope you liked it, thank you for reading <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of the party.

It’s both quiet and loud at the same time.

Virgil lays on his bed, wrapped up like a burrito in his blankets, honestly feeling a bit claustrophobic but too lazy to move and free himself. His head is tilted towards the table so he can stare up at the glowing red numbers on his clock, telling him that it’s three am.

For once in his life, he actually went to bed at a reasonable time but that hasn’t changed anything, he still has gotten no sleep. Instead, he just spent the night in bed, exhausted but for some reason unable to actually get any rest. The night went by so quickly too, he’d been lying there for hours but it only really felt like a couple of minutes. His violent stabbing headache and stinging bloodshot eyes disagreed with that thought but every other part of him is confused, wondering how the clock just jumped from three to five.

He needs to get up.

But he really fucking doesn’t want to.

Today is going to be a bad day, he can feel it. Darkness and despair looming over him, waiting patiently but staring at him with a promise, a threat that if he gets out of bed something bad will happen.

He wishes that he could somehow negotiate with it, beg it to leave and come back some other day, any other day.

Today is Patton’s birthday and Virgil is going to ruin it just like he ruins everything and Patton doesn’t fucking deserve that.

He shouldn’t go, being there will only make things worse but Roman and Logan are expecting him and they’re already pissed off at him, he doesn’t want to make it any angrier. Though maybe they’d prefer it if he just didn’t show up.

Maybe things could just go back to how they were before any of this. They’d be happy and he could just try to pretend none of this ever happened. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy, they would probably react to him hiding from them the same way they react to everything. Show up at his apartment out of the blue and refuse to leave. He’d have to talk to them and that would just make it worse.

And to be honest, Virgil isn’t sure how he would handle staying away from them permanently.

Somehow the clock now reads six and the horrible annoying alarm that sends chills up his spine is blaring throughout the room and he’s already on his feet and rushing over to make it stop. God, he hates that fucking sound but it is effective in getting him up. Though that fact doesn’t stop him from considering throwing the fucking clock out the window every single morning. In fact, if he hadn’t already destroyed his phone he definitely would have by now. He imagines that is would have made an extremely satisfying crunching noise.

With a loud groan, he forces himself to his feet much too quickly, immediately becoming dizzy as black spots dance across his vision. He roughly slams against his wall in an attempt to not fall over. Good news is that he manages to stay on his feet, the bad news is that his shoulder definitely has a brand new bruise.

He slowly but surely makes his way through his morning routine, if it can even be called that. He throws on the nearest clothes he can find, making sure that they cover his almost healed bruises, won’t be long now that he can mix it up and stop wearing his itchy turtleneck.

After gathering all of his school supplies, he pauses to take a quick glance in his empty fridge, he barely ate anything yesterday so he really should probably grab something but his stomach curdles at just the thought of eating anything. His nerves for today have manifested as a shaky jittering feeling in his stomach, making him so nauseous that he’s sure he would’ve puked by now if there was anything to puke.

He throws an old probably stale granola bar in his backpack for later, maybe he won’t be so sick by lunchtime, though he doubts it.

He opens his door to find a small shiny golden box wrapped in an equally shiny ribbon, the bottom right corner is crushed slightly in an almost endearing way. He lets out a sigh before dropping down and picking it up, probably looking extremely weird as he opens it while sitting on the floor and in the middle of his doorway. He’d definitely avoid himself if he saw him now, though it’s not like that actually means anything, he avoids everyone.

Inside is a small bag of candy resting on top of a little pale lavender envelope, a wax rose keeping it sealed shut tightly.

He moves past the candy, latching onto the envelope and very carefully opening it, making sure that there are no accidental rips or tears. It’s much too nice to destroy. He pulls out a nice white pristine piece of stationery paper, beautiful roses painted across it, bright green vines and leaves snaking between the red roses and connecting them.

It’s gorgeous.

And admittedly a little bit over the top but in a very sweet way, that’s how Virgil knows whatever this is is from Roman which is terrifying and Virgil suddenly really doesn’t want to read whatever this letter says. Maybe this is how they tell him that they want nothing to do with him and that he shouldn’t bother showing up to the party. It’d make sense, Logan and Roman were already angry at him, it probably wouldn’t have taken a lot to convince Patton to turn on him too.

But… for some reason that doesn’t seem likely. He knows that this whole thing is going to end terribly and that he’ll end up alone again but he doesn’t think this is how they’d do it. At least he doesn’t think Patton would. Patton is such a good kind soul, he’s the type of person to treat everyone with respect and that includes Virgil even though he doesn’t deserve it. He wouldn’t just send a letter and a bag of candy as consolation, Virgil thinks that Patton would choose to tell him himself in person.

That fact is a strange comfort so Virgil begins to read the letter.

_My dearest, Virgil_

_I have put a comma after the dearest :)_

_I wanted to say this in person and I will say it again the next time I see you, that’s a promise but since I haven’t gotten the chance and I couldn’t just let things stay the way they are._

_Virgil, I wanted to tell you how incredibly sorry I am about what happened. I reacted poorly and you suffered for it which is not fair. You hadn’t done anything wrong and I overreacted._

_I’m so sorry, you didn’t deserve that._

_I hope that you’ll forgive me but it’s okay if you’re not ready for that yet. It’s okay if you’re still mad. I won’t get offended. I totally deserve it._

_See you at the party._

_Love, Roman._

Holy shit, what the hell is he supposed to make of all that!? Who the fuck just says shit like that!? It doesn’t make any sense. It’s all so… so thoughtful and kind and good and pure and unexpected and different and weird and what the fuck does it mean?

And what the fuck does he mean by love Roman? That doesn’t mean anything, it can’t. He dramatic and very open with his feelings, he probably fucking says it to everyone, ends every letter that way. It doesn’t mean anything. Maybe none of the letter means anything. Yeah… yeah… yeah… that makes sense, makes a lot of sense. Gives Virgil a nice logical place to hide in, his brain makes sense, it always makes sense and it protects him.

But his brain isn’t making much sense today. It’s being loud and confusing and contradictory. Because there’s a part of him that is really fucking- oh god, he’s going to say it and it’s going jinx everything but he’s going to say it- happy.

This letter has made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

He’s being stupid, he knows he is. All of this could only possibly end in disaster and then this letter will only serve as a cruel reminder to what a terrible person he is and what he can’t have. He’ll only end up more miserable than before, left all alone to suffer his demons by himself.

He needs to put an end to this before he gets even more attached but it’s too late and Virgil is weak.

Virgil takes a small round white piece of hard candy with bright orange, yellow and blue stripes out of the little bag. He pops it into his mouth, it’s sweet and makes him want to cry.

 

* * *

 

Patton is feeling a teensy bit concerned.

He’s probably worrying himself into a panic for no reason but he’s barely seen the wonderful little stormcloud that is his fourth soulmate all week and the one time Patton did see him, Virgil didn’t say a single word, just nodding along to the conversation. It made Patton’s heart squeeze and he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it.

“Alright honey, this is the fourth time I’ve caught you staring into space. You’ve barely touched your waffles and it’s getting harder and harder not to steal your bacon,” His mom says, reaching her hand out and placing it gently on his shoulder. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Instead of answering, he just picks up the fork he abandoned hanging halfway off his plate acting as a perfect pathway for his syrup to spill out onto the table. The fork is sticky and his face crinkles slightly in discomfort but he chooses to mostly ignore it. He places all of his attention on grabbing a napkin and cleaning up the small lake of syrup so the poor waitress doesn’t have to.

“Is it about Virgil?” She asks hesitantly, knowing it’s a complicated situation.

Patton hasn’t told her much about him, not really knowing much himself and feeling unsure how much Virgil would be comfortable with him sharing. All she knows really is that they found their fourth soulmate, his name is Virgil, and things are complicated but Patton is hopeful.

“Maybe.”

“You know I can’t help if you don’t talk to me.”

Patton lets out a sigh as he pushes his glasses that have slowly begun to slip down back up his nose, “I think he’s been avoiding me.”

“Now, why do you think that?”

“He never seems happy to see me anymore and he always has somewhere else to be as soon as I’ve started talking.”

She gently takes his hand in hers, rubbing her thumb in soothing circles, “Maybe he’s just busy, sweetie.”

He pulls his hand away, leaning back against the bright yellow leather seat of the booth, letting his hands drop into his lap, “Yeah maybe.” But he doesn’t think so, Virgil has been living a busy messy life the entire time Patton has known him but that didn’t stop Patton from seeing him and spending time with him.

And Virgil was always very shy but now Virgil’s mouth is seemingly glued shut, his voice locked away deep inside and Patton doesn’t have the key. And Patton could live with that, if Virgil just doesn’t feel up to talking, that would be okay but it feels like it’s something else. He refuses to look Patton in the eyes, staring off somewhere else far far away, mind even farther.

Honestly, the last conversation Patton had with Virgil scared him.

“Well, why don’t you just ask him about it the next time you see him?”

He would with anyone else but he just doesn’t know with Virgil, any wrong word and he freezes up, devastation on his face and looking ready to flee. He always shakes it off quickly, schooling his face into an emotionless expression that terrifies Patton but that doesn’t change that fact that it happened, that there was something that upset him.

Patton is honestly leaning towards the wait and see approach, he needs to be patient with Virgil, push him and Patton might lose him forever. He doesn’t want to scare the poor sweet and sour shadowling.

“I don’t think that’ll work with Virgil.”

“Well, whatever you do, I’ll support you, Patty,” she says with the kind warm comforting smile that always worked to make him feel better when he was little. “You know that I love you a _waffle_ lot.”

He can’t help but let out a laugh at that, she always knows how to cheer him up.

Classes dragged on longer than ever before that day and Virgil spent the entire time fantasizing about jumping off a cliff or being hit by a hit. Both sounded great.

 

* * *

 

He’s spent the rest of his day just wandering around campus, not sure what to do and not really feeling up to anything anyway. It’s almost time for the party and with each passing second, his anxiety and stress rises higher and higher, reaching new heights.

Basically, today already sucks and he should just go home and curl up in a ball, wrapped in all the blankets he owns. Unfortunately, he, of course, can’t do that because he has to go to a party and socialize with his soulmates and possibly their families and people he doesn’t know or else they’ll hate him and he’ll lose them. He’s going to lose them no matter what but maybe he can at least end it with no being despised. Although maybe hate is better than complete and total apathy. At least then they would care enough to hate him.

Oh god, is he even making any sense anymore? Lately, it’s like his thoughts have all turned to useless mush and he is left confused and unable to understand any of it. Lost floating in the fucked up mess of his mind.

Okay, he needs to stop, he doesn’t have time for angst and moping. He has to get back to his apartment, grab his present for Patton and get to the hotel on time. Oh he’s so gonna end up being fucking late, isn’t he? Maybe then they’ll realize how fucking useless he is and finally cut him out of their lives.

The walk to his apartment is slow and cold and Virgil feels sick the entire time.

When he gets to his apartment, he finds Logan is waiting outside his door, leaning against his the pale beige wall, typing away on his phone faster than Virgil has ever seen someone type. When he sees Virgil, he puts his on a big smile that just looks like lies to Virgil and tucks his phone away in his shirt pocket.

Normally Virgil gets this strange happy fond feeling whenever he sees one of his soulmates but right now when he looks at Logan, all he feels is dread. He can feel it coming, the end.

Logan doesn’t seem to feel it though as he simply takes a step forward, pulling himself away from the wall, waving at Virgil as he approaches, “Hello Virgil, how are you today.”

“Good.”

Logan seems slightly put off by the quick response but recovers fairly quickly, literally shaking it off, “That is great news. I came here wondering if you would enjoy heading to the party together.”

“Oh… uh, yeah sure,” Virgil says as he unlocks his door, entering inside and gesturing behind him to let Logan know he’s welcome inside. “I-I just need to grab a few things before we go.”

“Excellent but we should leave within the next five minutes to reach our location on time,” Logan says, voice strained, as if he’s forcing himself to hold back.

It’s coming.

And Virgil feels like he’s going to be sick.

Instead of puking out his guts all over the floor, he grabs the painting, glad he wrapped it in the cheap light blue cloth so he doesn’t have to worry about opinions or judgments just yet. He knows it’s coming and that he won’t be able to avoid it but at least he doesn’t have to deal with it right now.

He almost wants to just tell Logan to go away and leave him alone because he’s not sure if he can keep doing this. But he also cannot remotely let go, cannot let it stop.

He drops his backpack on the floor, it makes a loud thump against the wood, all of his textbooks and notebooks making it a heavy drop. He has so much work to do so he’ll definitely be needing to stay up late after the party to get it all finished which is going to fucking suck. Another reason he shouldn’t go.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t voice any of his thoughts, instead he simply walks back to the door and leaves with Logan.

Outside the apartment complex, parked on the street is an old small brown car. He thinks that it’s a Saturn like the one mom used to have but he isn’t sure, he doesn’t know anything about cars. Virgil begins to walk past it but Logan stops and pulls out a key, making the lights flash and the car let out a beeping noise as it unlocks. “Jane let me borrow her car to pick you up,” he explains.

“Oh... that was nice of her,” Virgil says, awkwardly getting in the passenger's seat.

“That is just how she is, always doing kind things. Patton is much like her in that way.”

Virgil is suddenly extremely uncomfortable with this conversation, wanting it to stop immediately. It’s too… bright and Virgil is too dark and gloomy. Talking about Patton’s mom is making Virgil think about his mom. As terrible as it is, especially since he knows she deserves better but Virgil prefers not to think about her, it hurts too much. Think about her traps him away inside his own head, plaguing him with memories. Memories he’d rather die than relive.

“Did you enjoy your classes today?” Logan asks.

Virgil can’t help it, he scoffs, “No.”

“That’s a shame. Was it just today, just a bad day or do you not enjoy any of your classes?”

Virgil watches Logan out of the corner of his eye, trying not to be obvious in his staring. Logan is clearly trying to keep up a conversation, the question is why. “My classes suck.” Wow way to go, Virgil, how eloquent.

“Hmm, perhaps you are not in the correct classes for your interests. I take classes that I find quite interesting, you should do the same,” Logan says, tapping gently against the steering wheel in a careful and distinct pattern.

Oh wow, not like he’s heard that a thousand times before from every teacher he’s ever had. Virgil switches his gaze to the window and the outside world, not wanting to look at Logan anymore, “Can’t only take classes you like.”

“That is true.”

They fall into silence after that, neither of them having anything else to add. He should probably say something to make things less awkward, to make Logan happy since he so clearly wants to be talking but Virgil just doesn’t have the energy. He’s already going to have to talk to people tonight at the party. He needs to save his metaphorical strength.

The rest of the ride is much too long, they sit in silence. The gentle taps against the steering wheel like a drill to Virgil’s brain but he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t complain or ask him to stop. It would only cause problems and to be honest, Virgil is almost too tired to even bother saying anything at all.

Eventually, they reach the hotel and Virgil could not have gotten out of the car faster, practically flinging himself out. Logan, however, gets out slowly and with grace, probably judging Virgil for his hasty and clumsy escape.

“Logan, Virgil, there you guys are! I was getting so bored waiting for you,” A voice Virgil quickly recognizes as Roman shouts. Virgil turns to see Roman in a bright red puffy coat, running towards them.

“I was barely gone half an hour, Roman,” Logan says, pretending to be annoyed and exasperated but it’s clearly an act as he’s really just amused by Roman’s antics.

“Yeah but today is Pat’s birthday! Everything has to be perfect!” He shouts, voice excited, entire body thrumming with energy as he bounces on the balls of his feet.

Logan and Roman take a moment to stare at each other, expressions odd and intense, switching around and unreadable to Virgil. After their strange silent conversation, Logan turns to Virgil, “I will be right back, I must finish some of the preparations.” And then he’s gone and Virgil is left alone with Roman. Fuck.

“Did you get the gift?”

“Yeah… i-it was nice.”

“Oh, I’m so glad. I was super worried about what you’d think!” Roman says with a nervous laugh, “Anyway, I’ve got a promise to keep. I’m sorry about what happened. And I’m not just saying that for the sake of saying, I really really am sorry, I was being a total dick and you didn’t deserve that.”

Virgil immediately goes to brush it off, “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“No, it’s not fine. It was a terrible thing to do and I hope we’ll be able to work through this,” he says, reaching out and taking Virgil’s hand in his. Virgil wants to pull away, he doesn’t.

“Seriously dude, I’m over it and you should be too.” To be honest, Virgil isn’t totally sure why he’s lying. What’s the point in it really? It won’t change anything. The dark cruel ending is still creeping up on them, he will still fall.

But Roman smiles and at least there’s that, at least he gets to see that beautiful sight, at least he’ll forever be able to remember it.

Inside is an explosion of colors, streamers, and balloons everywhere. The floor coated with bright pretty confetti. Hanging from the ceiling, in giant block letters that are a bright blue with little white dots is a huge Happy Birthday Patton!

On the far left of the room is a long table with a lime green tablecloth, covered in an abundance of foods. Honestly, Virgil isn’t sure he’s ever seen this much food except for when he was working at Wendy’s and working there made him fucking hate fast food. In second grade, his class read over ten thousand words so they got a pizza party and he remembers just being completely awestruck, so surprised that so much food could exist in one place. He sort of feels like that now.

A large crowd of people is spread throughout the room, none of them Virgil knows which isn’t all surprisingly since Virgil is acquainted with a total of seven people. Four being his soulmates and three being his coworkers. Little groups of people are dotted around, each of them all having separate conversations that buzz lowly in Virgil’s ear. Oh god, this is way too many people. Virgil can’t do this.

“What do you think?” Roman asks, breaking Virgil out of the prison that his thoughts have become.

“It’s great. You must’ve worked really hard.”

“Oh yeah, it took forever but it’s so worth it!” Virgil wonders if he meant that as some sort of a disguised insult. Virgil was supposed to help with the party after all and he just ended up flaking on them, maybe Roman is mad at him. He’d have the right to be.

Virgil shakes his head, hoping his thoughts will fall away, watching as Logan makes his way back to them, “I’ve just got a text from Jane. They’re on their way down now.”

Roman lets out a gasp, gripping onto Logan’s arm and jumping up and down excitedly. Logan puts up a hand in an attempt to calm his enthusiastic soulmate but it doesn’t do much. If anything Virgil thinks Roman might get even more excited simply out of spite.

“Everyone!” Roman shouts to get the crowds of stranger’s attention, “Patton is almost here so turn off the lights and hide!”

They follow their orders quickly and suddenly Virgil is crouching behind a table in the dark, waiting for Patton to get here. He’s pretty uncomfortable, to be honest. His legs are already aching at the awkward position and his skin prickles with anxiety. His foot taps lightly against the wood floor and he can feel someone staring at him but he’s not sure who, can’t find them in the dark.

The huge two doors fling open and light trickles in.

He’s here.

Time to play pretend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took me so long but my life is still complete and utter chaos so updates are probably going to be like this for awhile. Thanks for waiting <3
> 
> Well I hope you liked this chapter, it was stubborn bitch to write. Thank you so much reading and just being here, it means so much to me.
> 
> Also did ya'll see the new sanders sides? I'm watching it now and it's great


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party.

His lungs are burning, breath coming out in uneven painful pants.

Tears are spilling down his cheeks.

He fucked up.

He fucked up so badly.

They hate you, they hate you.

They hate you and it’s all your fucking fault, you useless piece of garbage.

At least it’s over.

His heart shatters at that thought. It’s for the best, he knows that but goddamn it hurts so fucking much. He didn’t even know them that long, it should be okay, he didn’t have enough time to get too attached.

And now he can’t hurt them anymore.

And they can’t hurt him.

 

* * *

 

**2 hours earlier**

 

 

Someone flicks the lights on, and now there’s a blue filter coating the room, covering everyone in pretty blue light. Everyone jumps to their feet and shouts, Virgil doesn’t, ever the downer as always he just slowly and carefully stands up.

Surprise writes across Patton’s face, eyes wide and practically popping out of his skull, mouth agape. Then he’s smiling and laughing, eyes bright. And everyone is rushing towards him, hugging and clapping him on the back, wishing him a happy birthday. They’re all smiles and excitement while Virgil waits, staying back by the table he was just hiding behind. It’s terrible but he wants to run, just get as far away as he can and never come back.

Eventually, Patton notices him lingering and surges towards him and before Virgil knows it, Patton’s hand is clutching his and he’s being pulled into a tight comfortingly familiar hug. Patton practically burying his face in Virgil’s shoulder. Virgil’s cheek pressed up against Patton’s. Virgil finds himself melting into the embrace, all panicked feelings disappearing, his quickened pulse calming to a normal and healthy rate.

They stay there like that way longer than they should. Virgil can feel the stares of the other party goers but he doesn’t care, instead just choosing to ignore them and enjoy Patton’s warmth, his mere presence a comfort.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” Patton whispers and if Virgil’s face is flushed a bright red when they pull apart then he at least has the decency to not say anything which Virgil greatly appreciates.

He keeps a hold of Virgil, tightly squeezing his hand and dragging him along with him as Patton talks to the other guests. Virgil can see these strangers pausing to stare at their intertwined fingers and suddenly Virgil is noticing how sweaty his hand is, heart jack hammering in his chest. Patton doesn’t seem to notice the stares or Virgil’s increasing panic.

It’s okay it’s okay it’s okay it’s okay- no it’s fucking not! But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that they’re all fucking staring at him, judging him their knowing eyes. It does not fucking matter! Because today is the kindest sweetest person’s birthday and Virgil is not going to fucking ruin it by having a stupid pathetic meltdown.

Vaguely, Virgil registers that there’s someone laughing and a lump forms in his throat. God, please don’t let them be laughing at him. He looks around, eyes stinging, Patton is distracted by a girl with shiny shimmery red hair pulled up into pigtails. The two of them are smiling at each other, seem to be having a good normal time. God, why can’t Virgil be like that? Normal. Happy. What’s wrong with him? Why is he so fucking broken?

Patton’s warmth leaves Virgil and Virgil is left relieved, finally able to breathe but also so so cold without, freezing and starving to death.

He’s hugging the girl.

Virgil should leave.

But before he can, Patton is grabbing his hand again and the bright sunny boy’s touch hurts and aches, makes his skin itch and tingle. But the pain is a welcome change as it feels so wonderful and he both hates it and loves. Both makes him feel sick and cures him all ails.

They go to one of the various snack tables, Patton picking up a strange light brown brownie looking thing before shoving the entire sweet into his mouth. His eyes light up and he begins gushing about how good it is, even offering Virgil one. He knows he should be normal and nice and take the treat and act like there’s nothing wrong at all but he can’t, even the idea of eating right now makes him feel sick.

“I’ve got such a weak spot for sweets,” Patton informs him.

Say something, anything, Virgil! Just don’t leave Patton hanging in awkward silence. “That’s cool,” he says, voice raspy and holy shit, he’s such a fucking idiot.

Patton doesn’t seem to mind his lackluster reply as he just beams at Virgil and continues stuffing his face with desserts.

“Slow down, Patton, you are going to upset your stomach,” says a voice Virgil quickly recognizes. He turns to see his other two soulmates walking towards them.

“Yeah, Patty, don’t want to get sick on your birthday,” Roman says.

“But it’s so good!” Patton says with a pout.

“Just slow down a little, you have plenty of time to enjoy it,” Logan says before turning to Virgil. “And, Virgil, how are you enjoying the party? Is it to your liking?”

“Uh yeah, it’s great,” he says with a little croak. God, does his voice always sound like that? He sounds like a fucking idiot! Okay, he should definitely never speak again because his voice sounds like absolute shit and he’s probably already embarrassed himself enough.

“That is excellent news.”

Their conversation of fake force pleasantries goes on for another minute or two before they split up again. Patton taking Virgil’s hand once again and leading him around the room. He almost feels like a dog with a leash, being forced to follow and behave, pretend to be something he’s not, a good little soulmate with good little manners, exactly what Patton wants. He’s not. He’s going to be so disappointed. He’s going to hate him.

BANG!

Virgil jumps, head pounding, heart pumping much too fast and skin buzzing with anxiety. He looks around frantically in search of the noise. Eventually, he finds a deflated green balloon on the floor about a foot away from him. People staring at the source of the sound and therefore staring at him.

Oh.

Stupid fucking idiot! He’s always got to overreact, freak out and make a big deal out of nothing! He’s so worthless and stupid. God, can you imagine if his soulmate actually didn’t leave him!? They’d have to deal with this daily! And not just that, every other horrific thing about him. All his disgusting bad habits and his shitty fucking personality.

And everyone is fucking looking at him, stares digging into his skin like bugs. They must know, know what he’s thinking. They all hate him, he disgusts them, he’s nothing to them. They’re all friends of Patton and so they must be good people who care about him so of course, they hate him.

His throat aches and stings, eyes quickly becoming misty.

God, they should hate him. He deserves it. He hates him.

Patton is saying something, looking at him but Virgil can’t make out the words over the ringing in his ears, just watches his mouth open and close, open and close, open and close, open and-

He doesn’t seem to notice Virgil’s distress, no one ever does. Instead, he just leads Virgil towards the woman who came in with him, the woman who Virgil assumes is Patton’s mother. Jane wasn’t it? Or was it June? No no, he’s pretty sure it was Jane but he’s been wrong so many time before. Oh god, he’s forgotten her name. Wow, he’s such a fucking piece of shit. What the hell is he even doing here?

Patton’s voice breaks him out of his head, soothing tones reaching his ears and cracking apart the walls in his mind. “Mom, this is Virgil. Virgil, this is my mom.”

He smiles like he’s supposed to, shakes her hand when she offers like he’s supposed to and says, “It’s so nice to meet you.” Like he’s supposed to.

“You too, Virgil, I’ve heard so much about you. You seem like a lovely young man.”

Heard so much about you.

Heard so much about you.

A voice only he can hear whispers in his ear, She knows, she knows everything. She knows what you’re really like. She knows how bad you are for her son. And as you know, a mother will do anything for her son.

Virgil flinches, suddenly filled with fear.

There’s a rising feeling his chest, like a hand roughly pushing against him and slowly, very slowly reaching upwards to wrap around his neck. Virgil tastes copper and distantly he muses that he must have bitten his tongue.

His stomach curdles and twists, innards wrapping around each other and distantly he wonders if he will throw up.

“Are you all right, sweetie,” Jane or June or maybe Jamie- Patton’s mom asks, placing a hand on Virgil's shoulder. And even through his hoodie and his sweater underneath, it burns.

He shouldn’t and he doesn’t mean to but he violently wrenches away from her, tripping over his own feet and nearly falling to the ground. He finds Patton standing right next to his mom, concern in his eyes and when did he let go? Virgil doesn’t remember letting him.

“Virgil-” Patton begins to say but stops when Virgil starts retching, his empty stomach jumping and suddenly the coppery taste is overtaken by something acidy.

Virgil closes his eyes, not wanting the tears in his eyes to escape but then it is dark and that is so much worse as he’s reminded of a closet from foster family number four.

Phantom touches, imaginary hands, and it’s just like that night with that man. Great big hands squeezing around his throat and cutting off his air and Virgil chokes and is suddenly so so afraid.  
He opens his eyes, looking around the room designed to happily and this time it’s not just in his head as he realizes that all the guests at the party really are staring at him.

A pained sound like a groan or maybe more like a whine escapes his lip.

And he’s running away.

 

* * *

 

Logan had been watching Virgil during the party, unable to shake a feeling of dread that resided in his chest.

Something was wrong, Virgil had been acting peculiar when Logan had picked him up but his behavior has only gotten stranger as time passed. Virgil had barely been speaking, just following Patton around, not even looking at any of the people Patton spoke with. Logan wasn’t even sure Virgil was fully aware they were there or maybe he was just frightened of them.

And there were certain times where the light would hit Virgil’s eyes and they would shine with what Logan was almost sure was tears.

Seeing Virgil so clearly distressed caused a feeling of anguish to flare inside Logan’s heart.

He had been in the middle of concocting the perfect plan to help Virgil when Patton introduced him to Jane. If Logan thought Virgil was upset before then he became absolutely distraught during his interaction with Jane, completely beside himself. He appeared almost terrified and on the verge of a panic attack.

Logan watched Virgil pull himself away from Patton in a panic, unfortunately, causing Patton to become distressed as well. Patton took a step backward, expression devastated.

Virgil was shaking like a leaf, skin even paler than usual and sweat dripping down his skin.

And then suddenly Virgil was running away.

Logan sent Roman to comfort Patton while he searched for Virgil himself. He quietly and hastily wanders the large cold empty hallways, the walls an average cream color and the carpet an unusual green and blue checkered pattern with random yellow streaks.

“Virgil? Are you here?” Logan calls, waiting a moment but getting no reply. Though he suspects that even if Virgil is near, he would most likely not say anything anyway which is a frustrating and disappointing realization.

Eventually, Logan comes to a hallway quite far from most of the hotel. He leaves the comfy plush carpet, to step out on an old wooden floor that creaks loudly under his weight. The lights flicker, a few of them never lighting back up again.

There’s a loud rumbling noise to his left and he turns to find an old grey drinking fountain, white tile surrounding it in case of a spill.

He almost doesn’t notice the black shape crammed hidden halfway behind the fountain.

Logan swallows down a sad noise in his throat, not wanting to startle Virgil. The boy is curled up in a ball, hugging his legs up against his chest. Virgil’s hood is pulled up, covering his face which he has buried into his knees.

His body is wracked with violent tremors and Logan is worried that he’s beginning to hyperventilate. Logan needs to do something now.

Logan very slowly and carefully kneels down next to Virgil. “Virgil?”

“No,” Virgil says but it comes out more like a desperate groan.

“Can you hear me?”

“P-please go aw-away.”

“I’m sorry, Virgil, but I cannot do that. You are in distress and I want to help,” he says, keeping his voice soft and even, hoping it has a calming effect on Virgil. “Now, are you familiar with the 4-7-8 breathing technique?”

Virgil’s head shifts slightly in what Logan believes to be a nod. “All right, that’s good. Would you like to give it a try? I’ll walk you through it.”

“Okay,” comes Virgil’s muffled reply.

“Great, now exhale through your mouth,” Logan says, pausing as Virgil does such. “Inhale through your nose for four seconds. I’ll count with you.” Logan counts out loud. He watches as Virgil follows the instructions, tapping his fingers against his palm every time Logan says a number.

“You’re doing so well,” Logan says. He hopes that his words of comfort are actually helping and not annoying Virgil, he doesn’t want to make things worse and make him feel patronized.

“Next, you hold your breath for seven seconds.”

“Good, that’s really good, Virgil. Now exhale for eight seconds.”

They follow this pattern for a long while, Logan counting, and Virgil breathing. He’s not sure but he thinks that it’s helping. He still can’t really see Virgil as he’s still hidden away in his hoodie but Logan thinks that he seems calmer.

Virgil slumps against the wall and Logan takes that as his cue to stop.

“Are you doing better?”

Virgil nods and Logan smiles.

Thank god, he hated seeing Virgil like that.

“‘m sorry,” Virgil mumbles.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Caused a scene. Everyone was staring. Patton looked sad.” Virgil’s voice cracks. “Ruined the party.”

Logan pauses, trying to figure out the best way to address Virgil’s words. Logan’s fathers both had different ways of calming him down when he was a child. His dad would often solve Logan’s problems with hugs and comforting words while his father would always talk through the problem with him, step by step. Logan loves his dad but he severely doubts his method would help here but his father’s could work.

“All right, Virgil, how about we work through what you just said?” He says, staying quiet for a moment, waiting for a reply but deciding to continue after he doesn’t get one, “You say that you caused a scene. I disagree but that matters not since it is how you feel. Even if you caused a scene, why does it matter? I am close with all of the people attending the party and I know for a fact that none of them will be angry with you and they certainly are not judging you if that is your concern,” he says, confidently.

“People can surprise you,” Virgil says, peeking out from under his hood. “They’re never what you expect.”

“Oh, I am well aware of that as you have continued to do so since the day I have met you,” Logan says. “Now onto what else is bothering you. Yes, Patton was upset by what happened but he is only concerned about you. I’m sure a simple easy apology will easily mend the problem.”

Virgil lets out a groan, curling even more into himself. “I’m shit at apologies, It won’t work. An apology won’t do anything,” he says, voice wavering and shaking.

“Patton is a forgiving soul. I have a tendency not to understand other people’s emotions which has caused quite a lot of issues between Patton and I but he has forgiven me every single time just as I know he will for you.”

“He shouldn’t.”

Logan tilts his head, feel his eyebrows furrow in worry and confusion. “You do not get to decide that. It is Patton’s choice.”

“I ruined his birthday!” Virgil shouts, finally raising his head and causing the dark black hood to fall. Logan can finally see Virgil’s face. His big beautiful eyes that are an indescribable brown, full of grey and blue little flecks dotted about. The brown is such an odd color, it’s almost purple. Logan loves Virgil’s eyes and at any other time, Logan could spend hours just simply staring at them. But today, the sight of Virgil’s eyes, make Logan’s heart squeeze painfully. His eyes are red and puffy, dry tear tracks have stained his cheeks.

Logan quickly decides that he never wants to see Virgil like this.

“This again? Forgive me but I cannot possibly see how you ruined his birthday. Yes, this ordeal has caused a small blip in the celebrations but the day is not over. We have more time, Virgil, more time for it to be a good day.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” Logan asks, not understanding in the slightest.

“I just… can’t.”

Logan lets out a sigh, taking a moment to calm himself. This conversation is quite frustrating but losing his temper is _not_ an option right now. Virgil is in a vulnerable place and having Logan angry with him will not help.

“Then what should we do?” Logan asks.

Before Virgil can say anything, there are voices and footsteps heading down the hallway, towards them. Logan immediately recognizes the voices as his other two soulmates. He sees Virgil stiffen, hands wrapping around his sleeves and twisting into fists.

Logan doubts that this is going to go well.

“Logan!” Patton says, “There you are!”’

“Did you find him?” Roman asks, voice tense and clearly worried about Virgil.

Logan subtly tilts his head towards Virgil’s hiding place, letting them know that they are not alone. Virgil has gone back to hiding in his hood. Definitely not a good sign.

“Oh, Virgil, are you okay?” Patton asks, coming to sit next Logan.

“I’m good,” he immediately says. His words not having much ground to stand considering he’s curled up int a shaking ball and hiding behind a drinking fountain.

“You… you don’t look so good.”

“Looks can be deceiving.”

Patton lets out a soft hum, gently placing his hand on Virgil’s shoulder in what Logan is sure he meant as a comforting gesture. It, unfortunately, has the opposite effect and Virgil fiercely yanks away from him.

Teeth gritted, Virgil hisses out, “Don’t fucking touch me!”

Oh no.

“Woah, Virgil, I know you’re upset but don’t be rude to Patton. He’s just worried about you,” Roman says, on edge, voice a touch defensive.

Oh no.

Roman has always been protective of him and Patton, particular Patton since he’s so soft and kind. Always determined to defend their honor and quickly snapping at anyone he thought was insulting them.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it, Ro,” Patton says, trying to dissolve the increasingly intense situation.

There’s a terribly awkward silence for a few minutes where the three of them look back and forth between each other while Virgil’s face is mostly hidden away again and his eyes are glued to the floor, refusing to make eyes contact with any of them.

“So…” Roman finally says. “What exactly happened back there?”

“Nothing,” Virgil says, voice tight.

“Uh, that was clearly not nothing. Something is obviously wrong. You can talk to us, you know?” Roman says.

“Roman, maybe we-” Logan starts to say but is cut off by Virgil.

“It was nothing, just drop it!”

“Virgil,” Roman says, tone darkening. “I’m really freaking worried about you so sorry but I can’t just drop it. I want to help. Did it have something to do with Jane?”

Virgil clumsily jumps to feet, slamming his head roughly against the wall and hitting his elbow against the metal fountain but he doesn’t react in the slightest, doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he glares at Roman with fire in his eyes.

“I said drop it so mind your own fucking business!” He shouts.

The three of them stare at Virgil in shock.

This was so different than the shy soft-spoken boy they’d been getting to know, they hadn’t seen anything like this from him before. It was a completely unexpected twist, like the entire world flipped upside down.

“Shh, Virgil, it’s okay. Take a deep breath and calm down,” Patton says, rising to his feet and holding his hands out in a placating manner. “You don’t mean that.”

“How do you know what I mean!? You don’t know anything about me! Don’t act like you do!”

“What? Virgil, kiddo, of course, I do. Your favorite color is purple and your favorite season is fall. And you paint such beautiful pictures.” Patton says, once again reaching out towards Virgil. “You’re our soulmate, the four of us are meant to be together.”

Virgil roughly slaps Patton’s hand away from him, “God, you’re so fucking naive.”

Patton’s eyes fill with tears.

“Okay, that’s it. You’re being awful for no reason. Patton didn’t do anything to you!” Roman says, protectively stepping in front of Patton.

“Oh, yeah, not like you’ve ever taken your anger out on someone before!” Virgil screams, voice high and defensive.

Roman slumps at his word, “I apologized for that. You said you were over it.”

“I lied! I was fucking lying! That’s what I do! That’s all I do!”

“Virgil? What does that mean?” Logan asks, softly.

And Virgil has the nerve to actually scoff at Logan and then he’s laughing. A deep dark laugh, as if he finds this whole situation and conversation the funniest thing in the entire world. As if none of this means anything to him.

“See? You don’t even know! That’s how good of a liar I am! You all live in this fantasy world where everything is sweet and made of candy and nothing ever goes wrong but that’s not fucking real! You’re all fucking delusional idiots! You don’t know anything!”

“T-this is getting out-t of hand, why don’t we all take a second to calm down,” Patton suggests, talking around his tears.

“God, no! You still aren’t fucking getting it!” Virgil shouts before all the fight seemingly leaves his body. “J-just get out of my way.”

“No,” Logan says, firmly. They need to talk this through, they cannot just let things end like this.

“What a fucking surprise. Taking another fucking choice away from Virgil! What’s next? Are you going to show up at my house, my home where it’s supposed to be fucking safe and refuse to leave again? Or maybe this time you’ll do it at my work! Or-or maybe you’ll show up at one of my fucking classes like the creepy stalkers you are!”

And suddenly Virgil is pushing Logan out of his way.

Logan falls to the ground, looking up to see what he thinks is a flash of regret in Virgil’s eyes.

“Fuck you. Fuck all of you! Leave me alone, I want nothing to fucking do with you so stay away from me!” He shouts and then he’s gone, running back down the hall.

It hits Logan suddenly that they had made a very large mistake in how they handled things.

 

* * *

 

Virgil can’t breathe but when can he ever?

His whole life is a fucking panic attack.

He slams the door to his apartment closed with all his strength, flinging himself into his not safe home. He should move. He should move and quit his job. Work anywhere else as long as they can’t find him. What he really should do is drop out, send new college applications to every college he can find, as long as it’s far away from here, away from them.

He doesn’t have that kind of money.

He’s trapped here.

With them.

God, that… that is not fair.

On the table is the gift from Roman. The gift that made him feel like he was high up in the air, walking on clouds and safe away from all his problems and troubles and all the people and things that want to hurt him.

He’s not sure why but he walks towards it.

Stares at it for a moment before picking up one of the small candies.

It sits in the middle of his palm, something sweet out of place with something like him.

He pops it into his mouth.

It’s sweet, and this time it really does make him cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahahahahahahahahahaha  
> This chapter was so hard to write, I've lost my mind.
> 
> I'm sorry. :( It'll be happy again soon... soonish
> 
> Okay, where to begin. Uh, this chapter and chapter 12 were originally gonna be just one chapter but that was WAY too long so I split them up. 
> 
> Also I was trying to do something but I'm not so sure it came off right. I was trying to show that Logan is more aware of the details in the world, notices them, actually sees them while Virgil is too busy looking for possible threats to see anything like.
> 
> And I was trying to make Virgil's pov more of a mess because of how he was freaking out, hope that came off right.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me so long but it was being a bitch to write.

Virgil is tired.

He even says it out loud.

Mumbles it to himself in his empty bathroom. Says, “‘m tired.”

His voice is quiet and raspy (when was the last time he drank anything?), it rumbles through his chest. He can feel it in his throat, on his tongue, and on the cold tile floor he lays on.

He’s not quite sure how he got here.

Knows it was sometime after last night when he burst into his apartment in a panic. Knows it was sometime after he spent hours sobbing over a little piece of candy. Knows he hasn’t slept in days.

But it’s nice. He wears only a pair of boxes and a baggy thin sheer t-shirt. It’s bunched up slightly causing direct contact between the floor and his back. It feels nice and relaxing against his skin. He can see himself sprawled out on the tile in the mirror, he watches his chest rise up and down up and down up and down.

If it weren’t for the obvious breathing, he would look like a corpse.

He still kinda does.

On the bright side, the bruises on his neck and stomach have mostly healed, leaving only a barely-there mark. You wouldn’t even notice it if you weren’t looking closely and didn’t know what to look for. Even then it almost looks like a smudge of dirt or a soulmate mark.

Squinting and watching himself squint in the mirror, he notices that he has a new bruise on his elbow from last night. Little bloody crescent moons adorn his palms from where he must’ve squeezed too hard.

The cut on his stomach has scarred.

Which isn’t a surprise, he knew it would but still… he hates it. Hates it with everything in him which honestly at this point isn’t much. It’s just another reminder of that night, there are so many reminders. So many things that have decided he will never ever forget.

He has a headache, there’s a huge aching bump on the back of his head.

And he’s tired.

God, he’s tired.

And the floor is nice and cool.

Maybe a nap would be nice.

 

* * *

 

Patton wakes around noon, uncurls himself from the tangled knot of limbs he and Roman had become, carefully pulling away to make sure he doesn’t accidentally wake him up. He sits on the edge of the bed, just taking a moment to gather his thoughts.

A glass of water appears in his line of sight. “Drink this, you have slept for eleven hours, you are dehydrated,” Logan says. Patton can’t help but notice that Logan doesn’t mention that he’s so dehydrated because he cried himself to sleep last night.

He hastily drinks it down in only a few gulps.

“Slow down, you’ll make yourself sick.”

“Where’s mom?” Patton asks as he wipes away the drops of water that spilled out of his mouth and dribbled down onto his chin.

“Gone out to buy food.”

“Did she… tell you what she thinks about all this?”

Logan sighs and Patton feels it up against his cheek. “She’s worried about you, Pat, she always is.”

“She doesn’t have to be.”

“I’d say she has every right to be worried, the current situation is quite complicated and none of us are handling it very well.

“Did you tell her what happened?” Patton asks, suddenly very worried.

“I did not but I know that she expects you to once she gets back.”

Patton juts out his bottom lip, putting on his best pouty face. “I… I don’t even know what I would say,” he says, taking a careful step to get around Logan, going to the other side of the room to start digging through his backpack, searching for nothing but needing something to do with his hands and all this boundless energy coursing through him.

“Simply try explaining what happened.”

“I-I just want to get this fixed before bringing her into it. She’s only going to worry.”

“I do not believe that is an option anymore, Pat,” Logan says, voice gentle but he takes off his glasses and starts cleaning them with the light grey piece of fabric he always keeps with him. Something he always does when he’s stressed or upset. “There are too many variables that we do not know nor even slightly understand. We are completely out of our depth here and honestly, I am not sure that we will truly ever be able to mend the large chasm sized cracks that were created yesterday. This is something that you need the support of your mother on, Patton.”

“Hey,” Patton says softly. “It’s gonna be okay, Lo Lo, you don’t need to stress.” He makes his way back to his soulmate, gently taking his hand in his, tracing his fingers against all the familiar blisters and lines and perfectly manicured nails.

He places a kiss on a knuckle, smiling up at him and hoping it brings comfort. Logan nods his head, eyes unfocused and staring at nothing in particular. “Yes, of course, you’re right, statistically things have been good and eventually they will have to get better again.”

Patton pulls him into a hug that Logan immediately melts into, any fight or stress he had leaving his body. Hugs don’t magically fix all of their problems, they don’t magically give them the answers they need but it does chase away a lot of the pain.

“Hey hey, take a breath, Lo,” Patton says, squeezing his arms even tighter around Logan. “I’m not just offering empty promises when I say that it’s going to be okay. I really mean it. We’re going to figure this out.”

Logan tilts his head up and away to get a better look at Patton, face incredibly soft and fond and something Patton can’t quite put his finger on.

“I suppose you are right,” Logan says before he lets out a yawn.

Patton frowns and he can see the fear in Logan’s eyes. “Lo… when was the last time you slept?”

“Uh, I believe it was recently.”

“You… believe that it was recently?”

“Yes?”

“Go. Sleep. Now.”

 

* * *

 

A few hours after Patton forcefully dragged Logan to bed and watched him until he was certain he was asleep, his mom gets back. Swinging the door open and leaving it like that as she carries in multiple large plastic bags that crinkle.

Patton quickly gets to his feet and rushes over to help her, taking as many bags as he can off her hands. She smiles at him as thanks before continuing inside to drop the heavy bags on the table with a loud thump. He follows after her, carefully placing his bags down next to the others. She reaches inside one, searching for a minute before pulling out a pastel pink bag and throwing it at him.

“Got your favorite.”

“Thanks, mom,” he says, already tearing it open shoving the rainbow sprinkled cookies into his mouth.

“Careful, you’ll choke.”

He slows down… but only marginally.

“So you doing okay?”

And he’s not really sure what it is about that question, maybe it’s the fact that it’s his mom asking but he immediately bursts into tears. He drops the cookies with a light thud, the bag ruffling.

“Aw, pumpkin, come here,” she says, reaching her arms out and he runs to her. Tears dripping down his cheeks and painful sobs bursting out from his chest. Body shaking, wracked with sobs, he clings onto her shirt which he is currently soaking with his tears.

“Mom…”

“Shh, I know, sweetie, I know,” she whispers gently in his ear, hands running soothing circles on his back. She starts humming and it brings a soft comforting buzzing feeling that spreads throughout his entire body.

“He’s a really good person, mom,” he mumbles into her shoulder, voice quiet and muffled but she hears and understands him. She always does.

“I’m sure he is.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong. I don’t even understand what happened last night.”

“Okay,” she says, pulling away from him and gently taking his hand to lead him over the dark green couch that he honestly thinks is kinda ugly. She pushes him down onto it before walking away, she stops at where he dropped the cookies and picks up the pink bag before opening her suitcase. She draws out a large puffy and fluffy blue blanket which she ends up draping over him.

She then hands him the cookies and takes a seat next to him. “All right, tell me what you know.”

“I-I,” he pauses to think, thoughtfully placing a cookie in his mouth. “He came to my party… he came to my party and we hugged and he seemed happy. And then suddenly he wasn’t and he ran away.”

“What upset him?”

“I don’t know.”

“And then what? You went off to look for him and you came back crying. I was really scared for you, Patty,” she says, reaching out to give his shoulder a comforting squeeze.

“We fought.”

“What about?”

“He… he started shouting about how we’re naive and we don’t know anything about him. And…” Patton’s eyes fill with more tears. “And that he wants nothing to do with us and that we’re creepy stalkers and…”

She cuts him off, “Okay honey, calm down and take a deep breath. Honestly, all I think you can do is sit down and talk with him.” He withdraws into the blanket, even more, pulling it open his head, wearing it like a hood which reminds him of Virgil and that dark black hoodie he always wears.

He knows she’s right, his mom is a smart woman, she almost always knows what she’s talking about. The entire time Patton has known him, Patton has let Virgil skirt around and out of every conversation he doesn’t want to have. He never asked any questions about why he doesn’t like to be touched or why Virgil always seemed like he was running away from them.

He thought that that was what was best, that he needed to be patient, let Virgil hide as much as he needs to until eventually, he would be ready to talk to them.

But those secrets only served to push them apart. It only made things worse.

“I know but I’m really scared that it’s too late. I don’t think we’ll even be able to find him. He doesn’t have a phone and he’s good at avoiding people. He’s done it before.”

She taps her elbow thoughtfully, pushing her silver glasses back up on her nose. “Maybe give him some time. Not too long, just a couple days, let him cool down and then go looking for him.”

Patton lets out a whine, feeling like his insides just shriveled up and died. “I-I don’t… I don’t think I do that… I can’t just leave things how are and ignore him! What if he’s scared and lonely? What if he thinks I’m mad at him?”

“I get that, Patty but you said Virgil called you a creepy stalker, told you to leave him alone. Do you really think he’ll react well if not even a full twenty-four hours later, you show up and force him to talk to you? You said yourself that he’s good at avoiding things, if he doesn’t want to talk to you then I’m sure he’ll be able to get out of it. That’s why it’s best to give him some time.”

Again, she’s right. It’s clear Virgil doesn’t deal well with confrontation, and if they rush over to see Virgil, they’ll only make things worse. Ugh, why does this all have to be so complicated? Soulmates are supposed to be a good thing and they are, of course, they are. Just look at Roman and Logan and even Virgil. They’ll all such amazing people and Patton loves them all so much. But things are supposed to be easier, aren’t they?

“Were things this hard with you and dad?” he asks.

“Honestly? No, it was nothing like this. We had our issues and our fights,” she pauses to pull Patton closer, causing him to lean against her and into her embrace. “Your father and I were very different and that caused us a lot of problems. He was such a free spirit and I just wanted a simple life. He wanted to go on adventures and I just wanted to stay home and read a book or watch a movie. At first, things seemed impossible. I thought we would never work but we spent more time together and I fell for him hard.”

“How did you make it work?”

“It turned out I was wrong when I thought we were too different. We found similarities, found out that we liked a lot of the same things,” she says, voice becoming more and thick with emotion and sorrow, throat rasping and tears spilling. “And it turned out while yes, we were so very very different, we were also perfect for each other. He helped me up out of the dirt, taught me to enjoy things and take risks. And I helped him come down from the clouds everyone in a while, helped him not lose himself up there. It was fate and fate knows what it’s doing,”

Patton is crying again.

It seems like he’s crying a lot these days. “I really miss him.”

She lets out a shuddering breath. “Oh, me too, pumpkin, me too. But it’s okay because you’re here right now and so am I, he would be so proud of you, I know it. And just thinking of him reminds me how much he loved and how much he cared, and it helps me enjoy the things I know he would’ve wanted me too.”

“I want to share that with Virgil, the way dad saw things. I-I think it would really change things, help him smile more.”

She beams down at him, tears falling freely. “That’s a lovely idea.”

 

* * *

 

Virgil isn’t really sure but he thinks he laid on that bathroom floor for at least over twenty-four hours. All he knows is that the party was on Friday and now it’s Sunday.

His mom always liked Sundays, always saying that they were the perfect days for relaxation. He never liked them though, always feeling too antsy and nervous watching his mom drugged out of her mind, both asleep and not.

Today is no exception, he can’t stay still, twitching and jerking around violently, hands shaking up a storm. Eyes darting around in a panic, searching for the things he keeps seeing in the corner of his eyes.

Today is just one of those days.

Those days where everything is harder, too hard. He can’t seem to convince his body to move other than the clumsy fumbling, his legs refuse to cooperate with him. At some point, he made it back to his bed, crashing down onto it and not even bothering to adjust his awkward position.

Just one of those days where he wishes he was never born even more than usual. A part of his brain informs him that he should probably get up and do something productive, after all, he has exams soon and two essays he has to finish.

He should care.

He doesn’t.

It’s just… what does it matter? Why was he ever trying in the first place? It was something about proving himself he thinks. Show that he’s not what he is. Before he would work hard, not caring that it was pointless, that he had no future, nothing to work for, nothing to care about. He just did it anyway because that’s what you’re supposed to do.

But then…

Then he met them.

And even though he wasn’t aware of it, everything. He changed. Suddenly he cared. Suddenly he was working hard for them, trying for them.

It was stupid.

Pointless.

Exactly something he would do.

He wonders what they’re doing right now. Maybe they’re doing great now that they’re finally free of him. He doesn’t want to believe that even though he should. He almost can believe it though, it almost sounds so right and correct, just a perfect ending in a neat little bow.

But no.

No, he knows that’s wrong. He said such horrible things, there’s no way they’re just okay. Even if they’re happy and relieved that they don’t have to deal with him anymore, there’s no way they just forgot the things he said, no way they didn’t get their feelings hurt.

He hurt them.

 _He_ hurt them.

That was exactly what he didn’t want but when push came to shove he couldn't stop himself, couldn’t stop the ugly monster inside from rearing its head and tearing apart everything. Every single little thing.

He got pretty close, you know? Closer than he ever thought he could get. He could almost see it, see the bright light at the end of the dark dingy disgusting broken tunnel. He could almost touch it, smell it, enjoy it.

He wonders what it feels like on the other side, he can imagine it. Everything is bright and beautiful, warm friendly sunlight shining down on him, thawing his heart and turning his mind into a safe place that doesn’t terrify him, a pleasant buzzing echoing through his head.

Warm and happy.

God, he’s never wanted something so badly before.

But god, he also doesn’t want it, doesn’t want it anywhere near him. No, thank you, he’ll stay where it’s safe and comfortable. There’s been enough changes and complications lately in his life, he can’t deal with anymore.

He already misses them.

But moreso he hopes they listen to him and stay away. It will be better that way. Tough for a little while, lonely for a little while but he’ll get used to it again. And they have each other and their bright happy futures, they don’t need him weighing them down.

Knowing that almost makes him feel better.

Almost.

It’s just occurred to him how much hates the word almost. It perfectly describes so many different things in his life.

It doesn’t matter, cause he’s not going to let there be any more almosts. He’s going to go to work and earn his living and then he’ll go to his classes so there can be a possibility of something better. He’s going to keep going no matter how much it sucks.

He gets up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I imagine you're probably a little bit disappointed. You waited so long and this chapter is kinda a mess and I'm sure you all wanted more to happen. I'm sure you wanted there be a resolution or at least more conflict or something but I really felt like it was important to let the characters have a moment to think and react to what happened, to have a good cry. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you so so much for reading and sticking with this story. I love you all.


	15. Chapter 15

Roman tends to always be moving, mind blooming with ideas and plans. Countless times he’s woken in the middle of the night, leaping from his bed to write down his newest genius idea. Sometimes he doesn’t even go to back to bed, instead, he creates. Sometimes it’s a song or an art project or a poem. Sometimes it’s some elaborate romantic gesture probably involving flowers.

But right now he’s got nothing, absolutely nothing. His mind his blank, coming up empty. His thoughts flitter and dance far up above him and out of reach. He tries to jump and grasp onto one of them but every time he falls and he still doesn’t have anything.

He lays spread out on the couch, a soft damp cloth resting over his eyes, trying desperately to brainstorm.

He’s supposed to be the one that knows what to do, to have an idea on how to find and talk to Virgil without setting him off again. Maybe it’d be better if he just sent Logan or Patton alone without him since he’s the one always causing the problems with Virgil.

He knows Patton’s party was his fault. When he’d found them, it looked like Logan had been able to calm Virgil. And then he showed up and fought with him, causing him to have a panic attack in less than five minutes.

It’s his fault and he knows Logan thinks so too. He can tell by the way Logan looks at him, frustrated but not angry, just disappointed. He’s disappointed too. Patton doesn’t seem to notice, too busy playing the happy pappy Patton.

How are they supposed to talk to Virgil? He made it very clear how he felt about them going to his house and work without permission. Roman doesn’t want to make Virgil any more upset but he also can’t think of any other way of finding him. He doesn’t have a phone and any other ways to contact him. All they have is showing up at his house.

But they can’t do that, it’ll only make things worse. Not talking to him will make things worse too though. And he is not willing to lose Virgil, he can’t let that happen. He knows that if they just talk, they can work through this and then things will be okay and they can finally be like real soulmates, going on dates and getting to know each other better.

Why can’t Virgil just try? Things would be so much easier if he was willing to do his part in this relationship. Roman knows that logically there is a reason behind the way he acts, that Logan must be right about his Virgil but still. It’s not fair that he doesn’t seem to like them or even care about what they want in the slightest. It’s like he wants to be miserable.

Roman just doesn’t understand Virgil. He supposes that that means Virgil was right when he said that they didn’t really know him. Because now that he thinks about it all he really knows about the boy is silly trivial surface things. He doesn’t know anything deep or strange or interesting. He doesn’t know what makes him happy or about any odd little quirks he might have. He knows nothing.

But he does know that his heart pitter patters like a fairy whenever Virgil smiles. And that there’s this intelligence that shines bright behind his eyes that Roman yearns to learn more about. He knows that Virgil seems to notice things no one else does, eyes always wary and watchful, learning little details about Roman that even he didn’t know.

He wants a lifetime of that, a lifetime of learning more about Virgil, of the four of them getting closer than anybody else in the world. A lifetime of romance and happiness. Roman dreams and fantasies about many things, magical adventures, fame, and fortune. He has so many things he wants to accomplish in his life but being together with his soulmates and happy? That is at the top of that very very long list.

He taps his fingers against his leg, running them up and down the denim fabric, scraping his nails and noticing how he really needs a manicure. He’s been letting all his self-care routines go down the drain but he doesn’t really feel like doing anything about it. Idly, he finds himself wondering if Virgil would enjoy going to the salon with him, he usually takes Patton because he always has a great time and Logan hates going.

“How are you doing?” A voice asks and Roman peeks under the towel to see Jane sitting on the ottoman by the couch.

“Well considering the situation, I’d say that I’m doing as well as can be expected,” Roman says, voice even but thin.

“So shitty then?” She asks.

“Patton would tell you to mind your language.”

“Yes but I’m his mother, he doesn’t get to tell me what to do.”

“He’ll still try,” he points out, moving to sit up, causing the towel on his face to drop down onto his lap with a wet thump, already beginning to darken his pants with water.

“And you’re trying to change the subject.”

“No, I’m not!”

“Then what are you doing?” She asks, eyebrows raised, tone challenging.

“I’m… I’m thinking,” he says slowly, voice sluggish just like his thoughts.

“About what?”

“I’m trying to figure out what to do.”

“Maybe I can help with that. I did, after all, raise Patton and help him with most of his problems,” she says, getting to her feet and making her way to sit down next to Roman. She puts a comforting hand on Roman’s shoulder and gestures for him to speak.

“I can’t figure out what to do. Literally, the only way to find Virgil and talk to him is to do exactly what he doesn’t want us to do. And doing that will only cause more problems, make him even madder at us but if we don’t then we’re going to lose him. There’s no good option,” he says, fingers twitching and picking at his nails.

“Sometimes that’s just how the situation is and all you can is your best.”

“I know that but I don’t want to just take a guess and try!” Roman says, spreading his arms and gesturing wildly, “I want to know exactly what I’m supposed to do to make sure everything will work out and be perfect.”

“Me too but that’s just not possible.”

“Well, it should be,” he says, pouting like a petulant child.

“Do you just want to complain right now and have me commiserate with you or do you want to actually come up with a gameplan?” She asks.

“Can’t we do both?” Roman asks, pasting on a great big smile, showing off all his white teeth, doesn’t matter that it’s fake.

“Nope.”

“Gameplan then please.”

 

* * *

 

Virgil isn’t sure what his latest painting is. It’s too messy and emotional, the lines uneven and crazed, elaborate. It doesn’t make much sense.  
Large red paint splatters across the canvas, dripping and spilling all over the place. It covers almost every spot. Black and dark brown everywhere else, mixing and twisting, shadows and shading somehow making it all even darker.

His hands and arms were coated in it and now that he’s washed it away, it’s stained his pale skin a pinkish color.

He probably shouldn’t leave the house like this, might look like he violently murdered someone but he has class in an hour. Guess he’ll just have to deal with the stares. The mere idea makes him feel sick, makes him want to crawl under his table and never leave, hiding away from everything and everyone. All of the people who will hurt him… or he will hurt. It’s an awful awful circle, a loop. An eternity symbol going around and around and around. It’s almost funny if you think about. Funny in a terrible dark way, a way he hates.

What was supposed to be doing right now? He was trying to figure out what his painting is, wasn’t he? Yeah… he still has no idea what it is. Maybe it was meant to be abstract like Jackson Pollock. Though to be honest, he was never really much of a fan of abstract art. His fifth-grade art teacher said that you’re supposed to find your own meaning in it but he doesn’t like that idea. He doesn’t want to look inward and find the true meaning or whatever bullshit. He doesn’t want anything to do with who he really is. He just wants to stay surface deep, only pay attention to the trivial parts of life. Anything further is dangerous and not fucking worth it.

He needs to go.

He doesn’t want to, really really really doesn’t want to. There are people out there, dangerous people who will want god knows from him. Everyone always wants something and he’s safe here, safely locked away where no one can get to him.

Why does he even bother with school and classes and all the fucking work that comes with it? Just to prove a bunch of assholes he hasn’t even seen in years wrong? Who even cares? They certainly don’t, bet they’ve even forgotten about him, don’t even remember that he ever existed, that they ever interacted. And yet he’s been holding onto, clinging to it just to what? Stay alive?

It’s so… pointless.

And he’s so tired.

So so so tired.

It’s like his body isn’t working right anymore. Did it ever work or was it as broken as his mind? His bones ache and his limbs just don’t seem to move in the way he wants them to. He feels almost like he’s flying. He always wanted to fly, fly like the birds he used to watch when his sixth foster mother would lock him out of the house for hours, not caring if it was raining or snowing. He would dream of floating up above and sleeping on a cloud, fresh beautiful air in his lungs, the warm sun shining down onto him. No one watching him or crowding him.

Free, he dreamed of being free.

He’ll never get it, never ever.

Somehow he ends up in his bathroom, brushing his teeth, hand slowly sluggishly moving back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. His skin is pale. Well, he’s always pale but somehow he’s even paler. He looks like a blank canvas, skin as white as paper. Surrounding his eyes is a deep dark color, looking like a bruise. Looking almost like the many times he’s gotten black eyes. Not as bad, not as painful and achy but similar, close enough. Close enough to bring thoughts and reminders.

Maybe he’s sick.

He looks sweaty and clammy enough, his throat stings and hurts enough. His stomach rumbles and twists and he almost vaguely wonders if he’s going to throw up. It’d be a good enough excuse not to go to class. And yet, he finds himself standing in front of his door, twisting the doorknob and letting himself out. His legs move and his footsteps echo and black clouds his eyes, breath coming out strange and odd and loud.

It’s windy.

It’s always windy these days. It was windy the night he met Roman. It was windy the day they showed up at his apartment, refusing to leave. It was windy the night of Patton’s birthday party. And it was windy the night that man attacked him.

He used to like the wind.

Now it only makes him cold.

He used to like a lot of things that he now hates. Now there isn’t much he likes. Nothing he can find any good in, nothing he can’t find countless flaws and problems in. Even his art, the only thing that brings him any happiness is wrong and troubled. He draws disgusting violent things that would make any normal person question his sanity. It takes him away for hours at a time, wasting his precious time, time he should use to do something important and responsible. Time he should use to study or make money.

It doesn’t matter though because even more time passes and he’s sitting down in a creaky old chair at the back of the classroom. His backpack has a small little tear at the bottom of the dark grey fabric and he finds himself playing with it, pulls on the loose threads, making the hole bigger and bigger until pencils fall out and clatter against the floor. The girl with long smooth brown hair that sits two desks away looks up from her notebook, watches him for a minute with a bored expression before looking back down, going back to diligently taking notes like Virgil should be.

He idly pokes at a blue pen resting on his desk, considers forcing himself into paying attention and writing everything he hears down. But class has already gone on for a while and he doubts it’ll make sense if he just jumps in now. And it’s not like there’s really any point.

He looks outside through the wide glass window. Down on the sidewalk below, people walk, pausing to stop and talk, stopping to gaze at a patch of flowers. One girl trips over nothing, the armful of books and utensils spilling out of hands and spreading out across the ground. She lands roughly on the cement and Virgil can’t help but wince in sympathy. That looked like it hurt. Even though, without a second thought, the girl jumps to her feet, quickly gathering her things and continues running to her destination.

So many little lives going on and Virgil knows nothing about them. Each person has their own moment, moments of happiness and fear and anger. They have their own problems and issues. They see things Virgil doesn’t care to notice and don’t see things Virgil will fixate on.

The clouds up above skate across the blue sky and the sun moves inch by inch, slowly but surely. Eventually, it will fall and reach the end, disappearing so the other half of the world can have their day. Maybe their day will be terrible or maybe it will be wonderful. Whatever it is, it will be nothing like Virgil’s because his day is guaranteed to be miserable just like every other day.

Suddenly class ends, the other students already up and leaving. When did that happen? Whatever, not like it matters. He has to get to work but god does he not want to. He briefly considers just skipping work and heading home. He’s already had a long enough day.

Letting out a sight, he gets up.

He can’t afford to be irresponsible, he kinda needs to money to live. God, existing is so inconvenient. What he wouldn’t do to just be able to go fuck it and disappear into the mountains, become a hermit, live off the land and never have to deal with other humans ever again. He could get a cabin, lock all the doors and windows.

His little dreams and fantasies don’t matter, they’re stupid and unrealistic, distracting him from what he really needs to be focusing on. Around him voices mumble and murmur, words whispering up against his ears but he can’t make out the words. A part of him worries about it, sure that they’re talking about him.

They probably are.

He moves as if there’s something holding him back and he has to fight his to get away, to get any further. He can almost imagine it too, a hand wrapped tightly around his wrist or a stretchy material tied around his waist like rope or chains.

It feels like ages but eventually, he’s slipping past the glass doors and into the library. Silvia greets him with a wave and a smile. A smile that dies when she gets a good look at him, eyes roaming over his body in concern. Wow, he must really look like shit. He shrugs it off, quickly heading into the back before she can ask any questions.

He just has to get through work and then he can go home and sleep.

Sound easy right?

But when is anything easy for him?

 

* * *

 

Patton sits cross-legged on the beige carpet, staring up at a long pale white wood table. On top of is a pile of unopened and stilled wrapped presents. He never got the chance to open any of them. And now it feels wrong. Virgil is out there somewhere going through who knows what and Patton is contemplating opening gifts as if that will help.

Resting up against the table is a large flat square wrapped in bright pretty blue paper. His fingers itch to tear apart that paper, rip it to shreds and uncover what’s underneath. But normally a gift is opened with the giver still there, able to see your excitement and joy at their present. He wants Virgil to see how much he loves it. And he will love it, he will, he knows he will. He’d love anything from Virgil, especially something made by him.

He’s sure Roman and Logan would love to see it too but he’s not sure where they are. He really should wait for them. But he doesn’t know when they’ll be back, they could be gone for hours, they could be gone all day.

He doesn’t want to wait that long.

He doubts that they’ll be mad at him if he opens it now and they can still see it later. They don’t have to be there when he opens it. He nods his head slightly as if to reassure himself over his decision. He crawls across the floor, pulling the present into his arms. Very slowly and carefully, he peels back the fluttery paper, fingers gently pressing underneath the creases to pull it apart with the least amount of rips and tears possible.

He holds the painting backwards so the art is turned away from him and he can only see the white and brown back.

Taking in a deep breath, he carefully flips it around.

He gasps.

He… isn’t really sure what to make of what he sees. It infuses so many different emotions through his skin and into his mind, his chest aches and his throat stings. Tears gather in his eyes, feels them near to spilling over and down his cheeks.

Only a second ago, he was thinking about how he would love it no matter what but now… now he thinks he might have been wrong.

It’s beautiful, of course, it’s beautiful. Even if Patton wasn’t terribly biased, mind clouded by his love of Virgil, he’d know that it’s beautiful. Anyone would think that it’s beautiful. In fact, someone who didn’t know Virgil would probably like it even more than Patton because they wouldn’t know.

They’d have no idea the true meaning hidden behind the gorgeous brush strokes.

But Patton knows, he can see it so clearly and it breaks his heart.

A golden field of wheat lays spread across the canvas, each little stick and leaf drawn with perfect detail, so realistically yet with a certain fairytale-like quality to it. Like a wonderful dream. A bronze and golden sun shines down onto the field, bright beams of light shining and Patton feels like he can actually feel the soothing warmth projecting from it.

Almost right in the middle of the painting but a touch to the right, the wheat bends around three figures covered by black shadows. The color and light, and the dark shadows look as if they shift and move around the silhouettes. Like when you stare at the sun and when you look around everything looks different and weird, little shapes dancing in the air.

Each little people in the painting is lined by a bright pastel color. The first has a pretty red color, the next is a dark navy blue and last is a pale sky blue.

But there’s only three.

There should be a fourth but there isn’t.

Patton had thought that they had been doing a good job with bringing Virgil into their relationship and making him feel welcome. He thought that they had been making great progress. But no, things were messed up the entire time, Patton just hadn’t noticed.

He had known that Virgil had walls up, walls that Patton and the others hadn’t yet broken through but he had genuinely thought they were getting there. And then the fight had happened but the fight wasn’t actually the problem. It was just the match that lit the powder keg. Things were bad long before the fight, cracks and chasms between the three of them and Virgil.

Guess no matter how much he hates it, the painting is accurate.

His phone starts to ring with a familiar piano song that Patton had put as Logan’s designated ringtone. With a sigh, he pulls his phone out of his pocket, already pressing the bright green answer button.

“Hey, Lo Lo,” he says, putting on his cheeriest voice. No point in upsetting Roman and Logan any further.

He doesn’t expect what he hears, heart dropping and tears finally falling.

 

* * *

 

**1 hour earlier**

 

 

Virgil lets out a sigh of relief and walks back out the glass doors. The day moved so so slowly but finally, it’s three pm and he can fucking leave work.

“Thank god,” Silvia says, bonelessly dropping to the ground and wiggling around like a worm. “I was not gonna survive it in there much longer.”

He gives her a polite smile, not really into it but not wanting to be rude. And she really is a funny person, it’s not her fault he’s empty. “Yeah, I know it’s a library but sometimes I wish it wasn’t so quiet in there.”

“Oh my god, I know! Sometimes I just want to jump up and scream something,” she says, still on the floor but stretching out her legs.

“What would you scream?”

“I don’t know, something silly, something to break all that tension. Like wahooo or just make a stupid sound.”

“You might get kicked out,” he points out.

“Nah, Irene loves me way too much.”

He nods, fingers tapping awkwardly against his wrist. Silvia tilts her head, narrowing her eyes and squinting up at him. She gets up, standing a couple of inches above him, long blonde hair pulled up into a ponytail that blows in the wind.

“Hey… are you okay?” She asks.

He scoffs. “Yeah, of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Besides the fact that you look like a corpse?”

“Rude,” he says, hoping if he avoids the uncomfortable conversation long enough she’ll get bored or distracted or maybe just give up.

“But true,” she says.

“Uh excuse me,” a new voice asks and Virgil turns to see a man taller than the both of them. He has pale ghostly skin, though that’s pretty hypocritical coming from Virgil. The man’s skin is much healthier and alive than Virgil’s so he shouldn't really be judging.

The man has dark black hair that’s combed back in a nice neat hairstyle. His eyes are an even darker brown, the type of eyes that seem to stare into one's soul.

“Oh hello, can we help you?” Silvia asks with her customer service voice, apparently forgetting that she doesn’t have to since they just got off work and are free.

“Yes, are… are you Virgil?” He asks and Virgil swears that he knows that voice, the familiarity making goosebumps appear and shivers dance through his spine.

He’s not sure if he wants to say this but he does. “Yeah, that’s me.”

The man looks between Virgil and Silvia, eyes wide and staring deeply at them, as if he’s trying to get a read on them. “C-can I speak to you in private?”

A protective arm appears in front of Virgil and he turns to see Silvia looking tense as she stands tall. “And who exactly are you?”

“I’m his father.”

Oh.

Silvia lets out a nervous laugh. “Oh. Virgil, why didn’t you say something? I got all scared for no reason.”

She tries to pull away but Virgil clings to her arm, “I don’t have a dad.” Her eyes widen, mouth parting in surprise or maybe fear. He’s not sure but there’s a determined look in her eyes that makes him relax just a smidge. Silvia is a good person… a good… a good friend. She won’t leave him, she won’t let him get hurt.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“No… no, please, just give me a second. I need to talk to my son,” he says, panicked but tone firm, booking no argument.

“If you don’t leave, I will get my boss and call the police,” Silvia says.

That seems to have been the wrong thing to say as her words only seem to upset him more. He moves quickly, jolting forward, fingers wrapping around Virgil’s wrist tightly. He pulls Virgil forward, forcing him closer to the man he hates with a passion.

Silvia screams.

“Please just give me a chance, just let me talk, I can explain everything,” The man, ~~Virgil’s father~~ begs.

Suddenly two hands grasp onto Virgil’s other arm, yanking him backward. Virgil twists his head, expecting to see Silvia trying to stand up for him but instead finds… Roman. Logan is here too, he steps towards the man, getting in his face with rage fill expression.

Henry, his mind distantly reminds him, the word echoing in his head, bouncing against his skull. His name is Henry but you had forgotten that until the phone call all those weeks ago. Didn’t even remember his name.

“Let him go,” Logan says, voice a quiet, calm throaty growl but underneath that a barely hidden torment of violent animosity. It scares Virgil, has him pausing in fear. Already imagining the slap, almost able to feel the sting across his cheek.

“No, you don’t understand, please, this is all just a misunderstanding.”

“Misunderstanding my ass, Virgil says you aren’t who you claim so fuck off,” Silvia shouts.

“You heard the badass lady,” Roman says.

“Wait-” Virgil tries to say but voice overshadowed by the others yelling. Henry still refuses to let go of him, desperately tugging Virgil towards him.

“I will call 911 if you do not let him go,” Logan says, hand already hovering over his pocket.

It’s because of a painful game of tug o war, both Roman and Henry roughly holding onto him, pulling him into their respective directions. Virgil feels like a rag doll, falling and tipping, yanked around however they please.

Roman’s elbow slams into Virgil’s gut, causing him to let out a barely audible breathy groan. Nobody notices, too busy trying to do… something. God, he doesn’t even know.

“Please stop-”

“You don’t get to-”

“Stop it!” Someone shouts but they don’t, the shouting and arguing continues.

Virgil’s ears ring.

His head pounds.

His chest aches.

He can’t breathe.

He can’t breathe?

Oh god, he can’t breathe. Why can’t he breathe?

“Leave him alone!” A voice shouts by his ear. Roman? Oh, sweet lovely Roman.

Vaguely he hears himself coughing. Feels it deeply. The movement causing a sharp pain in his stomach. There’s a pressure in his chest. He feels as if he’s choking. It’s immensely painful. He wants it to stop.

Thinks he feels something dripping down his chin.

Tastes copper.

“Virgil-” He thinks that’s Silvia.

He gets his wish, feels his body drop and everything goes black.

Effectively making it all stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading <3
> 
> And I'm probably not going to update for a while. Once again my life is going to be really busy for a couple weeks. I doubt I'm going to have anytime to write. Thanks for understanding!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup.

Virgil sits on a chair.

Surrounding him, bodies dash back and forth, writhing around him. One is in the kitchen he’s only just noticed, was it there before? They stand at an oven that seemingly builds itself from nothing, a pale hand holds onto the handle of a pan.

Grease sizzles and pops.

Inside the pan are four strips of bacon, already beginning to curl.

Idly he wonders if maybe he should be hungry. He almost always is but not now. His stomach stays silent, not a single rumble or growl. He feels that usually the sight of bacon would make that happen but not now.

Not now.

Another body joins the chef in the kitchen, this one walks determinedly, back straight and posture poised. They take four shiny glass cups out of a reddish brown cupboard that only just began to exist. And then suddenly there’s a silver fridge that they’re taking a gallon of orange juice out of.

Another one of the faceless blurs appears in front of Virgil. They grab ahold of Virgil’s arm, twisting it around gently.

They give his hand a gentle squeeze, kissing the top of his knuckles.

The lights around them are pulled back, stretching like traveling through the stars in movies. His ears buzz and ache, as if he’s submerged under water.

And with a snap, everything becomes clear, his confusion and worry melting away, everything makes sense now.

He smiles down at Roman, rolling his eyes at his antics.

“Come on you two, breakfast is important for brainpower. It is needed to get through the day,” Logan says, placing the glasses on the table. Patton follows with plates stacked with waffles, eggs, and bacon. Roman helps Virgil to his feet, keeping their fingers clasped together.

Virgil takes the seat at the head of the table, Roman to his right and Logan to his left. Patton with his messy bedhead sits right across from Virgil, beaming at him, eyes shining. Virgil smiles back at him, it feels so easy and effortless. It wasn’t always like this, even the smallest smiles were agony to force, face numb like the day after a dentist appointment.

But not now.

Logan hands Virgil a fork, fingertips brushing up against Virgil’s. A light feathery touch, hardly noticeable.

“Eat up,” Patton says.

So Virgil digs in.

He takes a colossal bite of waffle….

But it doesn’t taste like how he remembers waffles tasting.

He could be wrong, he hasn’t had waffles since he was little. But it tastes wrong. Rotten.

“What’s the matter, Virge? Don’t you like it?” Patton asks, that smile of his slipping right off his face. “I worked so hard on it.”

“God, I told you he would do this,” Roman whines, glaring daggers at Virgil.

“No no, it’s delicious, you did an amazing job,” Virgil says, stabbing the fork back into the food and shoving it into his mouth.

His mouth burns, throat constricting.

Mold. Dust. Mud. Vomit. Dog food, he thinks he once ate dog food. His sixth foster home. He ate lots of strange things there.

He gags. Eyes water, sweat drips down his forehead.

His mouth falls open, what was once waffle, bubbles over his teeth, an ocean of dark black-green liquid spills past his lips. He chokes, muffled noises gurgling through the endless sick. It sprays out onto the table, onto the plates, turning everything it touches into more disgusting goop. It stains his skin and clothes. And it doesn’t stop coming, more and more and more rising out from his throat and down his face and neck.

He can’t breathe.

But that’s nothing new, is it?

“How pathetic. I suppose you were right, Roman, he shouldn’t be here,” Logan says, looking down at him, somehow a thousand feet tall, towering high above him.

However, the complete opposite happens to Patton, he looks small, so frail, so breakable. His eyes are filled with sparkling tears. “Virgil, why are you like this? What’s wrong with you?” Patton asks, voice breaking. “I tried so hard but you just don’t change. You’re still so mean.”

“Wait, Patton, no,” Virgil tries but to no avail.

“What am I doing wrong? Why do you hate us so much?” Patton screams.

“No, I-I don’t-”

“Everything was so much better before you came along! You ruined everything!”

And with those words, the world cracks, shatters.

Everything, everyone disappears into the shards, flying away, leaving Virgil all alone.

 

* * *

 

Virgil floats.

Virgil flys.

He lays on his back, on nothing.

Surrounding him is more nothing.

Sometimes the nothing is a black empty voice, a darkness.

He floats in the darkness. There is no up and there is no down, just the darkness. It tentatively reaches out, caresses his skin. He can’t feel it but it’s there, he knows it is. He doesn’t feel anything at all, to be honest.

He should. That’s not normal, that’s not okay.

Nothing about him is okay.

Boring, boring world, boring old thoughts.

He’s always thinking about the same things over and over and over again.

Thoughts like the darkness around him.

It doesn’t matter.

Like the sound of rain on a puddle, he can hear something. It’s quiet or far away or both. It doesn’t matter because something is in the way, something is separating him and the sound.

But then it gets louder.

And then it’s not alone.

A loud beep joins in.

And it drags him out of the darkness in its tight grasp.

 

* * *

 

The first thing Virgil notices is how good he feels.

To a normal person, he muses, that fact would not be so alarming but Virgil is not normal. He hasn’t felt this good in years.

So light, like a bubble.

Reminds him of when he was five years old and mom gave him a bubble bath. The two of them spent hours playing with the little toy boats and rubber ducks. She helped him create a whole story about a clumsy pirate looking for his long lost pet fish.

She smiled so big that day.

Dad left two months after that.

Virgil doesn’t think he ever saw her smile quite like that ever again.

A low murmur, a soft buzz around him, like he’s holding a seashell up against his ear to hear the ocean. Except it’s not really the ocean, it’s just the blood rushing underneath his skin. There’s always something else, a perfectly logical explanation, an answer. It’s never what you want it to be.

But this time, it’s voices.

Two to be exact. One deeper and hoarse, as if its owner hasn't spoken in a long while. The other voice light and sweeter, like honey. They sound much better off than the first voice.

“I brought you coffee,” The higher second voice says. “Though I’ll never get how you can drink that stuff. It’s so bitter.”

“Hmm, and what is it you are drinking, Pat? Hot chocolate soaked full of sugar?”

“You’ve got me there.”

And now that they’ve said it, Virgil can smell the chocolate, smell the strong scent of coffee. It bombards his nostrils and it’s like he can taste it in the air, right on his tongue. It cuts off every other sense, makes it impossible to focus on anything else.

It makes him cough, lungs bursting with a sharp stab of pain, sending aching ripples throughout his body. He lets out a low groan from buried deep in his chest, barely audible, making his throat burn as if someone was scraping something very sharp against the walls inside.

The beep gets louder, faster.

“Virgil?” The deeper baritone voice asks, a voice Virgil is just now placing as Logan. Logan is here. Patton is here. But where is here?

Virgil has no idea where he is right now.

The thought terrifies him.

This has only happened a few times before in his life.

One time was only a couple of hours after his mom’s death. He’d fallen asleep in the police station, in a creaky plastic chair. He woke up confused and scared, wanting his mom. It took him oh so long to remember what had happened.

Another when he was thirteen and one of his most brutal foster fathers beat him, nearly killing him. He spent eight weeks in the hospital before being sent off to the next foster home. Honestly, the one after that wasn’t so bad, they never hit him very hard and only starved him whenever he misbehaved.

Hmm, speaking of hospitals, could that be where he is?

That would explain the beeping.

“Virgil, can you hear me?” Logan asks. _Ugh_ , he thinks, _of course, I can hear you. Now shut up, I’m thinking._

“Get his nurse,” Logan says and then there’s quick footsteps and a door slamming against a wall.

With a great amount of effort, Virgil forces his eyes open, using all of his strength to pry up his eyelids. Light stabs his eyeballs, like a thousand little needles. He blinks, black spots dancing across his vision, eyelashes fluttering open, and closed, open and closed. He finds that he’s having an incredibly tough time keeping his eyes open for even a short period of time.

A head appears Above him, staring down at him, eyes a tempest of emotion.

Logan is the most disheveled Virgil has ever seen him, hair a mess, a slight five o'clock shadow, eyes red. He hasn’t known Logan long but the entire time he has, Logan has been very well put together, emitting a mature got it together atmosphere.

It’s alarming, seeing him like this.

He’s also very blurry but Virgil thinks that’s just him.

“Virgil, can you hear me?” He repeats and Virgil watches him form the words, lips twisting up and down.

Virgil tries to say something, most likely to tell him to shut up but he finds that it seems he has no voice, vocal cords seemingly empty and dead. The oxygen mask covering his mouth certainly doesn’t help. All that leaves his mouth is a weak breath, even that causing a pang in his chest.

Since talking was such a spectacular failure, Virgil moves on. He attempts to just give a simple little nod, hopeful that Logan will just leave him alone after. Unfortunately, his neck screams at the tiniest shift, stiff and aching like a rock.

“All right, how about we try this. Blink twice if you can hear me,” Logan says calmly, voice a lot like a soothing ointment on every knick and cut, erasing the sting.

Virgil does as he told, earning a smile for his efforts. A smile that makes his heart beat even faster, something it definitely should not have done. He shouldn’t still be able to effect Virgil like this. It isn’t fair.

“Good, very good. Now, are you in any pain? Blink once for yes, twice for no.”

He blinks twice, it’s only bad when he does anything but right now, lying here as still as humanly possible is actually quite nice. He feels like a star, very high up in the shiny sky.

“That is exceptionally good news. Now, do you know where you are? Again, once for yes, twice for no.”

Even though he has quite a good idea of where he is, Virgil still blinks twice. He knows he’s at a hospital but that’s about it. He has no idea how even got here. That’s definitely not a good sign. Hopefully, it’s not a head injury, those fucking suck.

“I see,” Logan says before pausing as if to gather his thoughts, find the right words. Which is about the freakiest thing Virgil has ever seen. It’s seemed like Logan always has something to say, always something to tell. It’s a shock, like being dropped in ice water to see him so quiet. “Two days ago, there was an… the altercation, a misunderstanding that led to you injured. Do you remember?”

Again, he blinks twice. Wow, even voiceless and unable to move, he finds a way to be a negative dark presence, ruining this already shitty conversation. If you can even call it a conversation. He doesn’t think one person blinking all of their answers totally completely counts.

“That’s okay, we shall talk more about it once you are better.”

There’s silence for a moment, Logan not adding anything else and Virgil unable to, though it’s not like he really would if he could. He’d probably stay just as quiet if he could talk.

“It is very ironic that you chose now to awaken. Roman will be quite distressed, he has refused to leave your side, all of us have but he has been very determined about it until about two minutes about when he left for the restroom. It seems even in your sleep, you are finding ways to make me laugh,” Logan says, looking at Virgil so softly as if he’s made of porcelain and is going to break at the slightest wrong move.

He wonders what he should think of that, what is there to make of it? Apparently, Logan finds Virgil funny. He supposes that such a fucked up mess must be somewhat amusing, like a trainwreck or a near death experience.

It doesn’t matter.

Virgil is finding it harder and harder to keep his eyes open. It’s like they suddenly each weigh a million pounds. Perhaps his eyelids are working against him, force him back to sleep and leave him vulnerable in the hands of a bunch of strangers and his soulmates who surely hate him by now.

His bones turn to water, heavy and warm. Maybe it’s not water. Maybe it’s hot chocolate.

Okay, he’s definitely high off some sort of pain medicine, isn’t he?

Fuck.

With that final thought, he fades back into the land of dreams.

 

* * *

 

Mom sits on the navy blue couch, head in hands, body shaking, wracked with sobs.

Virgil watches from the hall, peeking around a corner, a corner with a larger chip in the paint from when he was three. He’d been running around swinging a monster truck. Mom had laughed so hard at him as he cried, begging for her forgiveness. She had pulled him into a hug, squeezing him as tight as she could, kissing the top of his head. His very earliest memory.

But now mom is not laughing.

He doesn’t understand.

But he does know that everything feels different, like the world has shifted or the sky has fallen. Dad would know what to do, what to say to make mommy feel better.

**He remembers thinking that but cannot remember a single time when his father comforted someone, comforted mom.**

He’s not here.  
He went away and mommy won’t tell him where.

And now all she does is cry.

Virgil steps closer, dragging his feet against the carpet, clutching the old brown bear that he doesn’t remember getting. It was just always there, protecting him from the monsters and princes, fighting as his knight.

**Mom threw the bear away eight months later, screaming something about a deadbeat and how it was so fucking worthless.**

“Mommy?” Virgil says, rubbing his eyes, causing them to sting but not stopping the movement despite the pain. The weird little comfort it brings dubbed more important.

Mom jolts when she hears his, practically jumping from where she sits. She quickly wipes away the tears, putting up a watery smile, hands clenched tightly together. “Oh, Virge. Baby, what are you doing out of bed?” He voice is raspy and sad, so so sad. Virgil can feel it. It makes him sad too.

He doesn’t answer her. Instead, rushing through the space in between them, tears streaming down his cheeks, dripping onto his Spiderman pajamas, He places the bear on the couch, leaves it sitting right next to mom. Then he puts his hands on her knees, pulling himself up into her lap where he curls up into a little ball, wrapping his arms around her.

“Aw, baby, did you have a bad dream?” she asks, gently poking his chubby cheek.

He shakes his head.

“Then what’s wrong?” She asks, gently prodding and still poking him.

“You’re sad, mommy.”

**At least she’s not angry, she’ll start getting angrier and angrier soon.**

She takes him a deep breath, shuddering at his words, body pulling away, leaving back against the couch. “Oh baby, that’s not something you have to worry about. I’m okay,” She says with a great big fake smile, showing off too many teeth.

“I want you to be happy,” he says, lip jutted out in a pout, digging his face in her shoulder.

“Do you know what makes me happy?” She asks, voice taking on a conspiratorial tone, whispering right by his ear.

“No,” he says, voice muffled from where he lays buried in her shirt, shaking his head to emphasize his point.

“I’ll give you a hint, baby,” she says, playing with a dark curl on his head, wrapping it around her finger.

“Okay,” he says, pulling away to look her in the eyes, excited by her game, wanting to win.

“He’s sitting in my lap right this very minute.”

“Me!” He shouts, bouncing up and down, earlier distress already forgotten.

“Yes, you’re right! Well done, Virge, you’re so smart! It’s you, you and your miraculous healing hugs. Say, Virgil, will you give me one right now?” She asks and he nods, practically throwing himself back at her, gripping her with his short little baby arms, giggling like there isn’t a problem in the entire world, like dad didn’t leave.

**Hugs don’t do anything, smiles don’t do anything, nothing does anything.**

 

* * *

 

The next time he wakes up, Logan is gone.

In his place sits Silvia, scrolling through her phone and occasionally showing him a meme. He blinks groggily at her, smacking his lips, his mouth tasting like the mud from his dream. Like he hasn’t brushed his teeth in weeks. God, that’s disgusting.

“Silvia?” He asks, voice cracking, coming out as barely anything, practically nothing, muffled from the oxygen mask.

Her head snaps up from her phone, blonde hair thrown wildly about, eyes wide with shock. Her lips form an o shape. “Virgil, you’re awake!” She moves forward, leaning close to him to get a good look, gently reaching forward and putting a hand on his elbow.

“Hmm,” he says, unable to say much else.

For a moment, he’s worried she won’t hear him through the oxygen mask but then she continues, “Uh, I should probably go get someone, huh?”

He shakes his head, no definitely not. A doctor or nurse will ask questions, want something from him. They’ll stare at him, eyes boring into his skin. And with them will come others, his… soulmates may not be here right now but he doubts they’ve really left him alone. They’ll be back, they always seem to come back no matter how much he wants them not to.

“Oh okay, you sure?” She asks, tugging her bottom lip in between her teeth, chewing on it anxiously. He nods. “All right, you’re the boss.”

Virgil finds him smiling at that, it’s such a ridiculous thought. The idea of him having any control at all. A light bubble of giddiness floats up into his chest, amusement trickling through his veins, making him want to laugh. He probably would if he didn’t think it would hurt so bad.

“Your boyfriends went out to get food, bringing me a burger,” Silvia says. Boyfriends. What the fuck is she- oh she doesn’t mean Roman, Logan, and Patton does she? There has definitely been some sort of misunderstanding. “Which by the way, how the F did I not know that you’re dating three whole hotties!? That is very important information, how could you not tell? I gotta tell you, I feel very berry betrayed.” _I hardly know you_ , he thinks. 

He gives her a minute shrug, hardly even moving his shoulders but it’s clearly enough for her. She rolls her eyes and scoffs, a silly playful gesture that shows him how little upset she truly is. In the short time, he’s worked with her, he hasn’t been able to understand her in the slightest. She always so… bright and happy. It reminds him of Patton. They both behave like they were raised in a different universe, an entirely different world.

“Honestly, I didn’t think you had it in you to bag those three babes. Like don’t get me wrong, you’re a total look and a half but you’ve always seemed so shy!” She says, waving her hands around wildly as she speaks, “I’m impressed.”

Virgil knows that she means well, that she knows nothing about the actual situation but her words sting nonetheless. He didn’t bag anything, he doesn’t have anyone. He yelled at them, said such terrible awful awful things to them. He isn’t meant to be with them.

With a click, the door swings open.

Patton, carrying an armful of paper Burger King bags walks in, Logan and Roman trailing in behind him. Virgil briefly debates pretending to be asleep before realizing that would never work. If Silvia didn’t give him away then she’d have some questions he’d be forced to answer.

It doesn’t matter as Roman quickly notices Virgil watching them. “Oh, he’s awake!” Virgil suppresses a groan, mostly because he’s afraid it will hurt and only a little bit because it’d be rude. He doesn’t want to piss them off, he’s too hurt and vulnerable here.

“Ah Virgil, I hope you are well,” Logan says, straightening his tie, a tie Virgil hasn’t seen before. It’s a dark forest green with violet stripes. It’s a very nice tie, he likes it.

Hand shaking like he’s right in the middle of an earthquake, Virgil reaches up for the oxygen mask, fingers clasping around the rubber, squishing it in his grip and pulling it down off his chin. The consequences are immediate, his lungs pinching, little bites of pain, the air rougher and tougher on him. He rasps and grasps for a moment, his chest aching like an anvil but eventually, he pulls it together. Shoves the pain, forces it deep down belong, ignores it, pretends it away.

“Peachy,” he croaks.

“Well, that’s just _fruitful_ news!” Patton says, voice high as he drops the food on the table. Silvia gives him sharkish grin, kicking her feet against the floor and sending her chair rolling across the room and right next to the food. Patton takes a step backward to get out of her way, hands held tightly, wringing them together, fingers nervously running over his skin. But he still smiles.

“You really gave us quite the scare there, Virgil,” Roman says, dumping his body in the chair to the right of Virgil, so close he can practically feel him, presence all up in his face.

“Uh oops?” Virgil says but comes out more as a question, voice dripping with sarcasm. That… doesn’t sound right, in fact, he’s not all that sure why he said it like that. Normally he just thinks things like that. “Sorry.”

“No need for apologies, it was hardly your fault,” Logan says. Hardly. Still means at least a little bit of it was his fault, all his fault. They don’t even have the full story, if they did they’d think otherwise, they’d see how wrong they are, how it really is his fault.

Instead of voicing these thoughts, he finds himself rolling his eyes, even that is something much more than he’d normally do. Usually, he’d just try to stay emotionless, an empty blank robot. It almost always works; it’s practically a perfect plan.

“If you could excuse us for a moment, Silvia,” Logan says, gesturing towards the door. Virgil’s jaw drops and Patton lets out a scandalized gasp.

“Logan! You can’t just say that,” Patton says before turning to face Silvia. “I am so sorry about that, we were just hoping we could talk to Virgil alone for a bit.”

And then Silvia is laughing, a high cackle, hand slapping over her mouth but it does nothing to muffle her giggles. “Yeah, yeah, sure no problem. Have fun you four!” She says, quickly slipping out of the room with her burger.

Oh fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Fucking fuckety fuck!

Virgil wraps a hand around his wrist, squeezing roughly, fingernails that are much longer than usual digging into his skin. Logan watches all of this, causing Virgil to hide his hands under the light fluffy blanket resting atop Virgil. He continues gripping his wrist with all of his strength. Logan sighs but says nothing further on the subject so Virgil counts that as a win.

“We need to talk to you,” Roman says and Virgil’s blood flow feels like it just stops.

“W-what about?”

“Us. What happened. Everything,” Patton says softly, looking like he wants to just grab onto Virgil. It leaves Virgil feeling very uneasy. He doesn’t want to talk, least of all have this conversation. In fact, he’d rather talk about literally anything else

“Ah, that,” Virgil says, tightening the grip on his wrist.

“We could perhaps start with what happened at Patton’s party or if that is too difficult, you could explain what was going on with your father,” Logan says, tone cold and calculating. “He has refused to share much information on the topic.”

“Yeah, he just kept saying how it wasn’t his place or whatever,” Roman says.

And suddenly it all just stops.

And it’s like he’s underwater, scuba diving deep low in the ocean.

He can’t hear anymore.

The world around him shifting, becoming foggy and hazy.

“What the fuck did you just say!?” Virgil says, voice a low growl, even him hearing the torrent of rage in tone. But he doesn’t care, not even a little bit.

“I… what?” Logan falters, seemingly caught off by Virgil’s outburst.

“My dad’s here!?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahahahahahaha, this chapter is such a mess but that was kinda what I was going for? So I guess mission accomplished? 
> 
> Also I hope the part with his mom came off right, I was trying to show that Virgil was flitting back and forth from his child self and his adult self. And that's why some of these he said were so childish and others were more mature.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay first I wanna say how sorry I am that this chapter took so long. My life has kinda gotten super crazy this last month, I've been so busy. And I had to stay at the emergency room for a while, I'm fine, nothings wrong but it took up a lot of my time. 
> 
> And while so much was going on I just had no inspiration to write, this chapter was so hard, it fought me the entire way, kicking and screaming. I honestly kinda hate the way it turned out, it's such a mess. 
> 
> And my grammarly is like broken or something cause it's just stopped working so I had to work even harder while editing and I suck at editing so there's going to be so many typos and mistakes, sorry about that.

Logan is perplexed.

He’s in uncharted waters, has been for a long time but somehow he’s gone even deeper, where the water is no longer a lovely bright blue color. Instead, it has changed, become a dark black, full of sewage and other waste.

Virgil is upset, that is clear but Logan cannot for the life of him understand what is the matter. What has set him off this time? Most of the time, when Virgil is feeling melancholy, it is because one of them pushed him too far, went much too quick when he wasn’t ready.

But that is not the case this time. When Virgil was still unconscious, the three of them agreed that it would be best to be patient and allow Virgil to set the pace. He cannot find anything in their most recent interactions that would have angered Virgil.

But now Virgil is glaring at them, such rage emanating from his posture. His eyes overflowing with an indignant fury that burns. Logan does not understand what could have riled him up and brought out such a temper.

What did they do wrong?

Finally, Logan manages to force his mouth to work, to speak. “Yes, of course, your father is here. He was quite concerned for you.” He desperately hopes and prayers that he has not just made an incorrect decision, has not just made the situation worse.

Virgil snorts. “Are you sure we’re talking about the same person?”

Oh, there… there is some sort of animosity there.

While his reaction was not the worst, Virgil is still extremely angry, his arms folded in front of him, hands clenched in fists that shake from his rage. His eyes dart back and forth between all of them, watching, waiting.

“Kiddo, if you don’t mind, can I ask why he wouldn’t be here?” Patton asks, voice soft and gentle, “We were all pretty scared when you just fainted all of the sudden.”

Virgil pauses, body stiff and tense.

Logan worries that Patton may have just made a misstep.

“I-it doesn’t… doesn’t matter. Just make him leave,” Virgil says, voice frantic, almost whining, his anger somehow never leaving.

“Okay,” Roman says, Logan’s head whipping around to look at him. Roman stands, both hands resting on the table, a look of determination on his face. “I’ll get rid of him but then we’re talking.” And then with a purpose, he storms out of the room, head held high.

He leaves silence.

Patton’s eyes are wide, jaw dropped. Logan is feeling very much quite the same, lost and disoriented, baffled by Roman’s behavior.

There is something Logan is just not grasping, something there he is not seeing. Could it have to do with Virgil’s father, Henry?

All of Virgil’s behavior has been very peculiar and inconsistent. Logan cannot make sense of it, the data is biased and nonsensical. One moment Virgil will be behaving one way and Logan will think he’s begun to understand, create plans and charts. And then Virgil does the complete opposite, most unexpected action. It is entirely impossible for him to collect correct evidence on Virgil.

It has to do with Henry.

Virgil has clearly been through something terrible.

Is it Henry’s fault?

Was he the one who hurt Virgil?

A splurge of rage fires through Logan, rupturing out from deep inside him. It stings and spasms across his skin, eating away at his bones and nerves. His organs twist and knot together, cutting off the blood flow, suffocating him.

His blood burns.

If that hypothesis turns out to be true then Logan may end up doing something he’ll regret. Or perhaps something he would never regret. Perhaps instead he would simply feel satisfaction.

Moments later Roman returns, hair looking a little ruffled but positively glowing, wearing an obnoxious smirk on his lips, a smirk Logan has learned to love.

“By your pleasant appearance, I assume you were successful?” Logan asks.

“Yep, took some convincing but I got him to leave,” Roman says, absolutely preening with pride. “And thank you for the compliment but now is not the time for flirting.” Logan should be annoyed, exasperated at Roman’s inappropriate and ill-timed nonsense but his cheeks warm, pulse quickening. He has been with Roman and Patton for the majority of his life, you would think he’d be used to their affections by now.

“Uh Virgil, kiddo,” Patton says, voice quavering and nervous. “Do you remember what Roman said before he left? How we’d talk after he made your dad leave?” Logan doesn’t miss the way Virgil flinches when Patton calls Henry his father.

“We do have many questions,” Logan says.

“What does it even matter?” Virgil asks, scrunching up into himself, attempting to hide from sight. Roman bites his lip, clenches his left hand into a fist. Logan moves forward, shifting his body slightly in front of Roman, keeping his hands hidden behind him. Virgil cannot see this, it will only cause more problems.

“Virgil, we care about you, we want to understand what is going,” Logan says. Virgil does not seem to react well to that, he wraps his arms around himself, dips his nails into the palms of his hands. Logan assumes that he has overstepped, gone too far. Said too much too soon, possibly overwhelmed the poor boy.

What hurt him so?

What made him so afraid?

“What if we start small?” Patton asks gently, sitting at the foot of Virgil’s bed. “We won’t ask anything too personal and you can always choose not to answer. But you have to try, Virgil.” Logan finds himself smiling again, beaming with pride. Patton is so much smarter than he gives himself credit for, always finding just the right thing to say.

Virgil stares blankly at the corner of the room for a long moment, a moment that feels like an eternity until he eventually nods, never tearing his gaze from the wall.

“Okay, how do you really feel?” Patton asks, “Tell us the truth this time please.”

Virgil opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again. Only to close it once more. “Stings a bit but the drugs are doing their job,” he says, voice faraway and empty. And he speaks so nonchalantly, as if his words are average, something from every day. Logan frowns, that is concerning.

Patton smiles at Virgil, eyes sparkling. “Good, that’s good. Thank you for your honesty.”

“And what about emotionally,” Roman asks. “Are you mad at us right now?”

Virgil shakes his head, mumbling something under his breath. According to Virgil’s silence, the fact that he does not attempt to speak any louder, Logan presumes that Virgil’s words were not meant for them to hear, a quiet little something only for Virgil himself.

“I will not push you, Virgil, you may decline to answer if you wish but I am most curious. Why were you upset that Henry was here.” Logan asks, working to keep his town calm and soothing. He prays he succeeds.

Virgil stiffens but not by much, the minute reaction more resigned and hollow. Logan isn’t surprised, Virgil had most likely been expecting this. Logan is sure that they all were, just waiting for one of them to bring it. After all, it was basically the so-called elephant in the room.

Virgil curls up, even more, receding into himself even more. His face buried halfway in his shoulder and his pillow, blanket drawn up to cover his mouth. Logan cannot imagine that position is comfortable but Virgil doesn’t look like he intends to move anytime soon.

“It’s weird,” Virgil says, voice muffled, fingernails tearing through the fuzzy cloth blanket.

“What’s weird?” Patton asks, dedicating prompting Virgil to continue.

“Him. Him being here,” he says, taking a long cracking deep breath, making horrible little hiccuping sounds as he gasps for air. It does not sound like Virgil is panicked or his condition has worsened. Logan decides to keep a closer eye on Virgil’s breathing anyway. He will track down a nurse or doctor if his breathing worsens even the slightest. “He’s older. Which makes sense. It’s been thirteen years but still. Weird.”

“Excuse me?” Logan asks before he can stop himself.

Virgil tears his eyes away from the corner, gaze drifting over to Logan. And Logan is not at all comfortable with what he sees there. Virgil’s achingly beautiful eyes, always so strong and expressive, a maze of knowledge and wisdom, a slightly playful edge to them.

All gone.

In its place is an empty hollow void.

Is… is Virgil distancing himself from the conversation? Is he mentally closing himself off? Logan has read countless books and articles about the human mind but he has very limited knowledge of this sort of thing. He will need to do more research.

“He took off when I was five. He doesn’t get to just be here now,” Virgil says, eyes falling back to the wall, attention seemingly lost. “It’s stupid.”

Oh, Logan could hit that man. How could he just abandon Virgil like that? And at such a young age? Logan just does not understand.

Virgil is… Virgil is magnificent. He has not known him very long but he already cannot bear to imagine a world without him. How could someone willingly leave him? It does not make any rational sense. Logan plans to fight with his entire being to keep Virgil in his life and someone just let him go, threw him away like Virgil is nothing?

Logan is lucky, he had an amazing child, raised by two kind and loving fathers. Both of them incredible parents. Neither of them ever lost their temper with him, never shouted or were cruel. They have always been so patient, even when he did not return the favor, throwing temper tantrums and staying up far past his bedtime to read.

He can’t imagine how it would for one of them to leave, how it would feel.

Parents are the people who are meant to love you and take care of you unconditionally.

They’re not supposed to just leave.

It does explain a lot though.

Henry could be the reason why Virgil is the way he is. He could be why Virgil is so untrusting, so closed off. Why Virgil can’t seem to believe them when they tell him that they care about him. It could all be his fault.

Logan is so deeply lost in thought that he jumps, caught off guard when there’s a sudden rapid movement. Patton has jumped up on the bed, leaping to his feet and practically throwing himself at Virgil, wrapping his arms around him.

Virgil tenses.

And then relaxes, melting into the hug.

It may have worked out this time but Logan is going to have to speak with Patton about this. He cannot surprise Virgil like that, he may frighten him or cause a panic attack. It could have very dire consequences and that is not a risk Logan is willing to take. Of course, Patton is allowed to hug Virgil but he really should ask first, check to make sure it’s all right.

“I am so sorry,” Patton whispers. “You are wonderful and kind and you make me so happy. You don’t deserve that pain and I’m sorry.”

Virgil coughs, raising a hand to awkwardly pat right down Patton’s back. He clears his throat, blinking unusually rapidly. “Uh, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, Virgil. You’re allowed to feel,” Roman says.

Virgil looks like he wants to say something, mouth open and gaping like a fish, snapping shut when the door opens. Virgil shifts from his spot, pulling away from Patton. Patton doesn’t look happy about but he gets the message and lets it go.

In walks, Virgil’s nurse, clicking a sparkling rainbow pen in her left hand. Logan believes her name was Rose or something. He knows for a fact that it began with an R but the rest of the letters are a blur, lost to the stratosphere. How unlike him, this entire situation really must be getting to him more than he thought.

“Oh hello, good to see you awake,” She says, reaching for Virgil’s monitor, typing a few of the keys on the keyboard, eyes flittering around the screen, reading it intently. She glances back at him. “You really should keep that on,” she says gesturing to the oxygen mask, leaning over and slipping it back over his face. “Now how are you feeling?”

Virgil scowls up at her, immediately reaching back up to yank it back down. “Fine. Can I leave?” Virgil asks. Logan’s heart ruptures, fire spilling out. He turns to look at Virgil so quickly that he almost bangs his head against the wall. He must be joking.

“Now that’s really not a good idea,” R nurse says.

Virgil persists, not the least bit thrown off. “But can I?”

The nurse pulls herself away from the monitor, moving to stand in front of Virgil, right at the foot of his bed, a stern chastising expression on her face. “Technically we can’t keep you here but that’s a really bad idea, you’re badly banged up and it could get worse. Leaving will only cause more harm,” she says, reaching up and tightening her auburn ponytail.

“Don’t care, I need to sign something, right? Just give it.”

The nurse sighs. “Yes, there are forms you’ll need to sign if you decide to leave against our official medical advice. And you’re doing is going to have to speak with you. She’ll need to make sure you understand what you’re doing, that you’re in the right frame of mind to be making this decision.”

This cannot be happening, this is ridiculous, how can she allow this?

Patton steps forward. “Will you give us a second, Ruth? I’d like to talk to Virgil alone.” Ah yes, Ruth, that’s it.

She glances over at Patton, an unsure lost expression on her face, her eyes scanning over Patton’s form. He looks paler than before, hand wringing together in a clear stressed and nervous manner. Again, she sighs, nodding her head before she exits the room.

“Virgil, honey, do you really think going home right now is a good idea?” Patton asks, voice careful and sweet as the name he calls Virgil. His lips are pulled up in a great big smile, one that just screams fake false screen.

Virgil doesn’t seem to notice. “It’s none of your business.”

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that,” Roman says, putting an arm around Patton, giving his shoulder a gentle comforting squeeze. “We were talking, let’s keep that going. Why do you want to leave so much? Explain it to us.”

Virgil squirms under their gaze, head dropped, messy hair falling down to cover his face, hide him away, acting as a wall. There’s always a wall between the three of them and Virgil, even now when they’re finally getting somewhere, finally getting answers. “I-I don’t like it here,” Virgil admits, voice hushed, barely audible, as if he’s embarrassed.

“While that is understandable, we do not want you risking your health,” Logan says. He tries to sound kind and non-judgmental but he worries that it comes off more commanding and disrespectful of Virgil’s feelings. Oh, Patton and Roman are so much better at this than him, maybe he should just stay quiet and let them handle this.

Virgil scowls. “I’m fine,” he insists. Logan measures his breathing, focuses on pacing it, keeping it smooth and calm.

“Well, what’s wrong with here? Can we help?” Roman asks.

Logan watches Virgil’s eyes roll, arms folded, head shaking just the littlest bit. He portrays a very distraught persona, anger and animosity. His chin is raised high, jutted out in a show of irritation. Logan can’t help but think he looks incredibly attractive like this.

Of course, he does not enjoy seeing Virgil like this. To be honest he loathes seeing him unhappy more than just about anything in the world, topping the list right next to seeing his other two soulmates upset. But there is also something so exceedingly wonderful about Virgil looking so… so alive. He’s full of emotion and animated. He’s expressing himself, he’s actually talking to them, saying more than empty words meant only to please them.

Logan is finally seeing more of Virgil, the sides of himself he has kept hidden since the day they met. He’s not suppressing his emotions at this moment, he’s not bottling it all up inside.

“I just don’t like hospitals okay!?” Virgil says, tone hostile and teeming on a bout of ever more anger.

“Yeah, me neither,” Patton says, voice as soft as an angel. He reaches forward, intertwining his fingers with Virgil’s. The pale skin across Virgil’s noise, dotted with faint faded freckles darkens to a pretty pink. Patton doesn’t seem to notice. “Always feel so cold and uncaring, gives me the heebie-jeebies! Just look, I’ve got goose pimples,” he says, raising his free arm, leveling it right in front of Virgil’s eyes. “And it makes me think about some not so happy things but how bout we try and change that? We could bring blankets and stuffed animals. And board games, books, whatever you want! I want to feel happy and comfortable, Virgil, but I don’t want you leaving here. I want you safe.”

Logan could not have possibly put it any better.

“Fine,” Virgil says, looking much like a disgruntled kitten, expression pulled tight.

 

* * *

 

Patton has a plan, a plan he may still be putting together but a plan nonetheless.

As he runs through the store, he keeps his arms stretched out to push anything and everything into the plastic green cart. Roman pushes it behind him, a sullen expression on his face. Patton wants to say something but it’s clear that Roman is working himself up, trying to find the right words.

Every couple minutes Silvia will appear from nowhere to drop some random object into the cart, only to disappear back into the aisles, hidden from view by the shelves. Patton knew as soon as he saw her waiting outside Virgil’s hospital room that it was a good idea to bring her with them. She’s already proven how good she is at picking what to buy, Patton muses as she ties four bright colorful balloons to the cart.

“If he hates balloons then he can take his anger out on destroying them,” she says, nodding her head like a wise old monk.

“Uh, good idea, kiddo!”

“I’m pretty sure I’m older than you by like a year,” she says before skipping away.

Roman sighs, leaning further against the cart, head resting on his folded arms. Patton gives him a moment, picking up a great big fluffy teddy bear half his size with dark brown fur.He squishes it in between a platter of fruit with a huge plastic dome lid and a bright purple blanket.

“I think I did something bad, Pat,” Roman says, finally speaking up. It’s a relief after the long silence on the drive over here. Roman isn’t meant to be quiet, he’s loud and excitable, personality always shining like the sun. A silent Roman is a heartbroken Roman, Patton was twitchy and uneasy the entire.

“Whaddya mean?”

Roman shifts his head to look up at Patton, his face drawn into a pout, eyebrows dipping. “I got Virgil’s dad’s number.”

“Now why would you do that?” Patton asks gently.

“I promised to send him updates on how Virgil is doing,” Roman says before his eyes go wide, crazed and desperate, he latches onto the front of Patton’s shirt. “But that was before Virgil told us what he did, I swear! Oh god, he’s going to be so mad.” Roman’s head drops back down, body slumping with shame, voice dripping with guilt, “He just wanted Henry to leave so badly and getting his number worked.”

Patton pulls him into a hug, clasping his hands tightly behind Roman’s neck. He lets his voice drop to a faint murmur, whispering softly right next to Roman’s ear, “It’s okay, Ro Ro. Have you talked to him yet?” Roman shakes his head. “Well there you go! We can just explain it to Virgil, I’m sure he’ll understand. And he can decide what to do, we won’t contact without Virgil’s permission.”

Footsteps clack towards them, the sound of a boot heel hitting the shiny rubber floor of the store. Patton hears a giggle. “Am I interrupting something?” Silvia asks coyly.

Patton and Roman rip apart, wrenching their bodies in separate random directions. Silvia is cackling, Roman’s face is a bright red and Patton’s cheeks have warmed considerably. “No! It’s not like that! We were just-”

“Chill, do whatever you want, I don’t judge,” she says, hands raised to show surrender, lips pulled up into a grin that can only be described as manic, all her pretty white teeth shown off perfectly, she looks vaguely like a shark.

“It really wasn’t what you think,” Roman says.

“Allrighty, whatever you say.”

She drops a strange little metal box into the cart, it lands right on top of the teddy bear. Patton can’t really can’t a good look at it as it’s wrapped in cardboard and bubble wrap but Silvia looks sure and confident. The fact that she’s actually here, has been here this entire time, all for Virgil makes Patton trust her. She seems like a good friend, Patton wishes they met under better circumstances, he likes her.

She notices him staring and wiggles her eyebrows, eyes sparkling with mischievous. “Well enough denial, I’ll leave you two alone, free to do whatever you want,” she says, giving a wave of her hand, sparkly yellow painting nails glinting in the light. She takes off, walking backwards, eyes glued to them as she leaves.

For a long moment the two of them just stand there, crushed under a blanket of silence. And then suddenly Roman is laughing. A deep hysterical laugh. And he doesn’t stop. He ends up bending over, hands on his knees, entire body shaking.

And Patton can’t help it, he finds himself joining in, not nearly as loud or explosive as Roman but still as real.

“That was so fucking embarrassing,” Roman says.

“Language.”

 

* * *

 

Virgil is not having a good time.

It’s becoming increasingly difficult to breathe, his chest aching despite the frequent flood of drugs they’ve been pouring into his veins. Just the thought of that clear liquid pushing through the tube, rushing down at him makes him feel even worse, makes his skin itch and tingle.

The next time he sees his nurse he’s demanding they take out the IV. He may have been forced to stay here, blackmailed by kind words and pretty faces but that doesn’t mean he’s letting them give him anymore drugs. He’d rather be in pain, that he can handle, he’s used to it.

Patton and Roman left over an hour ago, Logan sits to Virgil’s right, close but not too much. VIrgil suspects that’s on purpose. He hasn’t spoken much either, always letting Virgil speak first. He seems content to just sit there in silence, reading the humongous book the size of Virgil’s entire head that he pulled out nowhere.

Virgil doesn’t know where Silivia wound up.

She’s probably fine.

He figures she probably just got sick of waiting around, bored of pretending to be worried about someone she barely knows. And she’s already done more than enough. She wasted her time actually waiting for him to wake and when he did, she was a friendly comforting presence, helping him get his mind off all the bullshit going on.

She talked to him, actually talked to him.

He nods to himself, rapidly tapping his knee, hands shaking. She has definitely fulfilled whatever possible invalid obligation she must’ve felt towards the random coworker in front of her. God, that must’ve been so awkward.

And now Roman and Patton are out there doing who knows what, bending to his ridiculous whims, his pathetic demands. Fuck. How is it he always does this? He tries, tries so damn hard to fix things, at least make them the littlest bit easier but somehow he just always makes it worse. Somehow he’s still managed to drag them down with him, forced them to fix his stupid silly little problems.

He shouldn’t be here. If he just left, it could fix everything. It’d be obvious that he’s fine, they wouldn’t have to worry anymore, feel the guilt of the soulmate they hate getting hurt.

God, he just ruins everything.

“Are you just gonna keep sitting there?” Virgil finally snaps.

Logan doesn’t say anything for a very long minute, a minute that feels like an eternity wrapped up in forever. Logan doesn’t look up, he just takes a dark black bookmark out of the pocket on his polo shirt and calmly places it where he was reading before closing the book with a snap.

Virgil thinks he flinches.

Logan is frowning.

Well, no, no he isn’t. He’s doing that thing people do when they’re fighting their emotions, trying to keep his face neutral. But his eye is twitching and his lips are pressed so tightly, the smooth pink skin is turning white, his nose scrunching up the ever slightest.

A phantom frown.

“Would you prefer we do something else?” He asks, voice calm and cold, clipped. He’s mad he’s mad he’s mad he’s mad he’s mad-

Virgil shakes his head, swinging it from side to side. “N-no.”

The frown deepens.

“Is there something bothering you?”

If anyone asks, Virgil will blame it on the drugs, the goddamn drugs. Because he laughs, actually laughs, a bitter hoarse laugh. Logan seems surprised, Virgil is too. But he supposes that it makes sense, such sense. Is something bothering him? God, how long do you have? He could talk for hours, for weeks, for years.

There is so much. Just so so much.

It swirls like a hurricane around him, dark and violent, roaring around him, screaming at him, shouting at him. It can never be forgotten, always there, festering and rotting, growing, spreading. And it’s a thief, robbing, taking all the air in the world, stealing it right out from Virgil’s lungs. Chokes him right out but never offers the mercy of unconsciousness, he can never not be aware, can never ever just… stop.

And he’s tired, so tired.

His bones heavy and aching.

“I suppose that is a yes,” Logan says, shifting his body, crossing one leg with the other, “Is there anyway I can help?” Virgil scratches at the area in his inner elbow, around the IV, Logan’s eyes follow the small action, staring deadeyed at him. “Is it uncomfortable?”

Virgil shrugs. “Not really.” Because it isn’t, Virgil is used to needles, the little piece of metal has been a part of his life for as long as he can remember, he’s been stabbed by them plenty of time, every visit to the emergency room and forced doctor appointment. (Everytime he watched his mom choose drugs over him).

He’s not afraid of needles, they don’t bother him, that’s not the problem.

It’s what’s inside the plastic bag hanging above him, what’s flying through the little tube that’s freaking him the fuck out.

He doesn’t say anything of this, obviously. Logan would think he’d gone mad, look at him like a crushed bug on the bottom of his shoe, squished like a pancake. Virgil doesn’t want to see Logan look at him like that. He’s too vulnerable right now, he can’t take it just yet. He just needs a little bit of time, time to pull himself together, then he’ll be ready.

“All right then, but please don’t hesitate to speak up if anything is wrong. I am here,” Logan says but he doesn’t return to his book. Instead, he just keeps watching Virgil, lips pursed together, a single eyebrow raised just an inch. He doesn’t seem to realize that he’s making a face and Virgil is tempted to say something but his heart is made of wood.

A knock at the door.

The nurse from earlier enters, ponytail flinging back and forth and she walks, waving wildly. What did Patton call her again? He thinks it was Ruth, in fact he’s pretty sure that it’s Ruth but he’s also not taking any chances. He just won’t say her name, avoid calling her anything. It’ll be easier that way, much safer.

She sighs when she sees that he’s taken the oxygen mask off again but he doesn’t care. He hates the way it feels, too suffocating, he can breathe on his own. Doesn’t care if that makes him a difficult patient, he’s been worse.

“Take this out,” he says, gesturing to the IV and sounding much like a demanding child. He should probably feel embarrassed about that.

“I can’t do that,” she says, faltering at the glare Virgil give her. “The pain medicine is the only reason you aren’t in pain, there would be much discomfort. And your doctor has plans to take more blood. We’ll need the IV for that.”

“Don’t care about the IV but no more drugs, got it?” Virgil says, well aware of how rabid and hostile he sounds, probably doesn’t look much better either. Whatever works, she won’t listen to him unless he seems like someone worth listening to. And he has to get his way, has to win this fight, just this once.

Out of the corner of his eye, Virgil can see Logan rising to his feet, he can’t quite make out the expression on his face but his body is tense and still. His shoes pat softly again the floor as Logan comes closer, his movements slow and careful, almost lethargic. Is he okay?

“If I may, Virgil, could you explain the problem?” Logan asks.

“There’s no problem, I just need her to stop drugging me,” Virgil growls, jaw clenched, teeth grinding together.

“Virgil, the medicine really is for the best, there is no point to needlessly suffer, it is all right,” Logan says, clearly attempting to sound soothing but he only comes off at patronizing. He doesn't understand.

Ruth looks uncomfortable, eyes darting between the two, fingers curling up, clenching tight before straightening out, only to do it again and again. Virgil feels for her, really he does but first she has to unhook the drugs.

“God, just listen to me!”

Ruth lifts her arms, hands outstretched in a peaceful gesture. “Uh okay, why don’t we just-”

Virgil cuts her off, “You can’t force me to take it, pretty sure I can sue you for that!” Heh, sue her with what? He has nothing, he’d probably lose immediately but she doesn’t know that. Big companies hide under the bed when even the word sue is whispered.  
“Virgil, please, stop this! I do not want you in pain for no reason, you do not need to be so stubborn,” Logan says.

“Addiction runs in my fucking family!” Virgil shouts, screams it at the top of his lungs, making his chest seize painfully. He ignores it, keeps his mouth clamped shut, fights the whimper that was building up in his throat.

Logan deflates at Virgil’s words.

Virgil does the same, already regretting speaking up, regretting staying here. He hadn’t meant to say that, not really, it just sort of slipped out. Logan kept pushing and pushing and Virgil was just getting angrier with each passing second.

And then Virgil spoke.

He’s such an idiot. He shouldn’t even be here, shouldn’t be anywhere around Logan and the others. They don’t deserve this. And he sure as hell can’t afford this sort of thing. He doesn’t even have insurance!

Oh god, he is so fucked. Logan is going to finally see the truth, see how disgusting and pathetic and terrible Virgil is. He’s going to hate him and hurt him and then he’s going to tell Patton and Roman and of course, they’ll listen to him because Logan is smart and cool.

This is it. This is the end.

Logan turns to Ruth, expression unreadable. “Well you heard him, no more pain medicine.”

Wait what?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much reading  
> And for waiting


	18. Chapter 18

Virgil feels warm.

It started in his chest, blooming into a gorgeous flower, petals stretching out, arching in a beautiful formation. It feels as if he’s outside, laying on the grass, the sun shining down on him, dusting his skin.

He feels warm.

And he’s not an idiot, he knows exactly what, who has caused this. It’s Logan’s fault, he’s made Virgil feel this way. Him and his dark pretty eyes, a cool color reminding Virgil of the way the sky looks during a storm.

Virgil is sure his face is a bright shining red. He prays to every god (even though he’s been a strong atheist ever since his foster parent hit him the very first time) from every single religion that’s out there that is isn’t too noticeable.

Ruth is unclipping the drugs. Logan somehow managed to convince her but she doesn’t look particularly happy about it, forehead wrinkling as she frowns. Normally being in such close proximity to someone clearly unhappy would terrify him, especially in his weakened state but for some reason, he feels fine. Maybe it’s because this is a hospital and if she tried something, someone would show up.

But that doesn’t matter because Logan did it. He actually got Ruth to listen to them. Nobody ever listens to Virgil and Logan did it with such ease. He was… magnificent, so determined and confident, speaking so adamantly.

Impossibly, his cheeks become even warmer, ears too, blazing like a wild flame. Logan doesn’t seem to notice or at the very least he doesn’t say anything.

Mercy, he supposes.

Ruth finishes up with a strained smile curled on her lips, more like a grimace. “All done! Now push the button if you need anything or the pain becomes too much, no shame in changing your mind, okay Hun?” Virgil nods his head even though he has no intention of doing so. He’s a stubborn bitch.

And with that, she flees from the room, escaping as fast as can without it being too noticeable. Of course, Virgil can tell, it’s clear how desperate she was to get away from Virgil. He can’t exactly blame her, he knows that he’s been a tough patient.

Virgil still can’t believe Logan did that for him. Virgil just… explained himself and Logan helped him with absolutely no hesitation. Does he feel bad for Virgil? Did he do it out of pity? But that doesn’t make any sense. Logan was completely against Virgil going on the meds, he is a logical smart person, he wouldn’t just do something that he doesn’t want to out of pity. That doesn’t fit with anything Virgil has seen of Logan so far.

Either way, Virgil is eternally grateful. He clears his throat, ignoring the stabbing sting and says, “Thank you.”

Logan appears to flounder for just a moment, eyes widen the slightest bit, mouth opens. If Virgil had to guess he’d say that he’s managed to surprise Logan. Which doesn’t feel great considering he was just trying to be nice and apparently that’s incredibly shocking. Eventually, Logan smiles, “There is no need for that, Virgil. It was the correct decision.”

“‘Kay,” Virgil says, burrowing back into the thin hospital blanket, wrapping it around himself. He can feel Logan’s eyes on him but it’s not all that bad, for once the thought of being watched doesn’t feel oppressive or overwhelming, it just is.

Logan clears his throat. “You appear anxious.”

A raspy laugh escapes his lips. “Yeah, that’s kinda my thing.”

“Do you think a distraction would help?” Logan asks and Virgil shrugs, burying his face in his brick of a pillow. He doesn’t know, nobody has ever really tried to help before. Feels strange. “All right, let’s give it a try. Allow me one moment.”

Virgil hears movement, a soft grunt and the clicking of buckles. Then the sound of paper fluttering, pages flicking back and forth. Eventually, Logan speaks up again, voice a soothing rumble, like the current of a river, washing down on smooth.

It takes Virgil a long confusing minute to realize that Logan is reading to him, a story about a young boy in love with a girl trapped in a tree. Shock lances up Virgil’s spine, no one… no one has ever read to him before. He thinks he can remember a time where mom sat by his bed, a book in hand but he doesn’t actually remember her reading to him. And his foster parents certainly never did.

It’s… nice, really nice.

Virgil barely notices himself relaxing, eyes drooping shut, Logan’s voice a comforting constant, following him as he dozes, into his dreams to scare away all the bad.

 

* * *

 

Virgil comes to slowly and peacefully, a faint chatter hear nearby, voices a gentle hum, static in the background but still a reassuring noise. Lets him know he isn’t alone, something he’s surprisingly relieved about.

He’s even warmer than before, though this time it is less of a metaphorical feeling and more of an actual physical heat. He lays on top of a cloud, the sky resting on across him, coating his skin like one of Patton’s hugs.

A knock at the door is enough to pull Virgil out of the foggy remnants of sleep, jolting awake violently, chest afire with pain. He lets out a groan, half pain and half displeasure at being woken. Patton is by his side, hands hovering above Virgil as if Patton wants to help but doesn’t know if he should.

There’s a new blanket over Virgil, large and fluffy, soaking up all the chill in the room. Several balloons and humongous stuffed animals surround him, dotted throughout the room. And Roman and Patton have returned, Silvia too. Virgil guesses this all must be Patton’s attempt to make Virgil more comfortable here, talk about grand gestures, he hopes they didn’t spend too much money on all this.

“Are you okay?” Patton asks, right as the door opens and a woman comes in. To Virgil’s surprise, this time it’s not Ruth, instead, it’s someone he’s never seen before. She wears light blue scrubs and her dark black hair is pulled up into a tight bun on the top of her head.

“Hello all,” she says with a smile. “I’m Virgil’s doctor, Dr. Hyun.”

Logan stands, reaching out to shake her hand. “Greetings, I am Logan, it is pleasant to meet you. This is Logan and Patton, we are Virgil’s soulmates and this is our friend, Silvia,” he says gesturing to each person.

“How lovely to meet you all,” Dr. Hyun says, stepping further into the room, glancing at Virgil’s monitor, flipping through some papers on her grey metal clipboard. “Well let’s get started, Virgil you’re pretty malnourished, have you been eating healthily?”

For a minute he genuinely considers asking her if ramen counts but he sincerely doubts that she’d appreciate that. “Yes?”

Dr. Hyun doesn’t look like she believes him, fair since he was not very convincing, her eyebrows are scrunched up and she purses her lips. “I see, and what exactly happened to cause you to crack a rib and puncture a lung?” She asks.

Virgil freezes, spluttering over his words, “I punctured a lung?”

“Yes, your rib broke loose and punctured it. You’re very lucky it was only a small pneumothorax, if it were any worse, we would’ve needed to put a tube down your throat and possibly done surgery. Fortunately, that is not needed. Now, do you know how it happened?”

**That night, that man.**

“Uh, I fell down some stairs a couple weeks ago, great big concrete ones.”

“That would do it, you really should’ve come in earlier, waiting so long only made it worse,” she says, eyes dancing around the room, from Virgil to his soulmates, watching them all with an intense expression. It makes Virgil uncomfortable, squirming under her gaze.

“Sorry,” he says, hoping that will appease her. That doesn’t seem to do it, she’s still watching them like a hawk, he wishes he knew what was going on in her head, what she’s thinking. Her stare feels too much like the times when his foster parents would go too far and be forced to take him to the hospital, all the doctors and nurses watching him with an all too knowing gaze.

“So he’s going to be okay?” Roman asks.

“As long as he takes it easy and gets lots of rest.”

“Can I go home then?” Virgil asks.

“No, we’d like to keep an eye on you for a little while longer, shouldn’t be more than a week,” Dr. Hyun says and Virgil subconsciously wilts, heart dropping right down to the center of the earth.

“I can’t miss that much class, I’ll fail,” Virgil argues, desperation pounding in his chest. He cannot let that happen. School is practically all he has, the only constant, his only hope, his safety net. He doesn’t even want to imagine what would happen if he loses his scholarship, needless to say, he’d be so fucked.

“I understand but this is your health on the line, any strenuous activities would likely make you worse. It’s possible you could die,” she says, tone grave. Honestly, Virgil finds it a tad dramatic. The entire universe has been out to get him since the day he was born, so many things should have killed him, he’ll survive a little hurt.

“I can’t stay here, I don’t have the money for it,” he says, persisting, hoping against hope that she’ll listen to him and understand. She is so close to ruining the little life he’s managed to scrape together.

Dr. Hyun doesn’t react like he expected her to, her face dips in confusion, eyebrows furrowed, mouth dropping open. “Oh, I assumed you already knew, don’t worry about it, dear, your father’s got it handled.”

Virgil hears the room go silent, silent except for the sound of blood rushing through his veins, pounding in his ears. His skin prickles, a mountain of ice cubes falling down on top of him. Roman jerks, Patton’s face shifts into an expression of concern. Logan barely moves, hands clenched into fists, fingers turning white. Silvia simply looks confused, eyes darting around the room. She doesn’t understand.

None of them breathe.

“Motherfucker.”

Dr. Hyun looks extremely put out by Virgil’s language, lips pinching together. He doesn’t have any sympathy for her, not when-

“Who the hell does he think he!?” Virgil curses under his breath, “What the fuck makes him think he has any right!?”

It’s like a dam inside his head breaks, a roaring wave, torrent of agonized rage comes spilling out. Virgil has spent his entire fucking life without the asshole, survived it without any of his help, sure as hell didn’t need him. Virgil spent all this fucking time trying to forget him, to just simply be, and he pulls this goddamn bullshit?!

If he was just gonna show up, actually fucking him then why the hell didn’t he do it sooner!? Before mom died, back when she was hitting him, scaring him all the time. He could’ve come back before she fucking killed herself! He could’ve stopped it all, every fucked up foster home where the parents thought beatings were a good punishment.

Why the fuck now!?

Vaguely, faintly, at the very end of his mind, buried beneath all the screaming thoughts, Virgil can hear someone, someone calling for him. “Vir- can- hear me? -gil? Virgil? It’s…” Like a faraway channel on the radio, crackling in static, the voice blips in and out. He can’t make any of it out, not really. A part of his brain is annoyed, done with all of this, aware how fucking stupid it all is. It’s well aware of who is speaking and what they’re saying.

But that part of his brain is not in control and Virgil cannot seem to find it in the flood. He knows it’s there, can even almost hear it but it’s lost, lost and gone, impossible to reach.

Distantly he realizes that he’s having another panic attack.

A stray thought falls from the sky, he wonders why a panic attack surprises him so, he should be used to this, it’s his normal. In just a moment, the thought it lost, burning to ash.

And there’s this dark dark shadow, eating away at it, forcing away all logic and rationality. It spreads through him, across his skin, turning him into something worthless. He becomes nothing more than a puddle of mud, the shadow overtaking him, shutting it all off. He can’t think, he can’t breathe, he can’t think, he can’t breathe, he can’t think, he can’t breathe, he can’t think, he can’t-

There’s a hand on his.

It’s as cold as steel in the winter.

At first, it terrifies him, reminds him of far too many terrible times. But then the hand squeezes, just the littlest bit, soft and gentle, a soothing cool touch that pulls him up. It’s as if he was drowning, his thoughts the ocean, waves crashing down on him, crushing him, pushing him down and down and down.

But then someone was there.

And offered him a hand, lifted him up, out of the water.

Saved him.

“Virgil, honey, can you hear me?” A voice asks.

Patton.

Sweet, sweet Patton.

His great big blue eyes are watery, filled to the brim with tears and Virgil feels a lurch of guilt. His fault, always his fault.

Patton smiles when he sees him looking, squeezes his hand again. “Hey sweetie, can you hear me?” Patton asks again. Virgil nods his head, head pounding and neck crying out at the movement. But Patton’s smile grows. “That’s great! Now just listen to my voice, okay? Ignore everything else right now.”

Virgil follows the instructions, closes his eyes and pushes everything away, leaving only Patton and his reassuring voice, soft but not too quiet, cool but not frigid. And Patton talks, he talks for so long, about so many things. Him mom, the weather today, all his favorite colors (literally all of them, he can’t choose), and about a cute stray cat he saw the other day.

Virgil doesn’t even notice it a first but he slowly begins to relax, body slumping back against the bed and it’s becoming much easier to breathe. His chest aches, a sharp stabbing pain that refuses to leave, making him let out weird little hiccuping noises whenever he breathes but it’s manageable. And Patton is here.

“She had the cutest pink nose, Virgil! But Logan wouldn’t let me pet her, something about diseases. I spent well over an hour just talking to her, she’d meow and I’d meow back. I feel like we really made a connection, we’re best friends now. You’d love her, Virgil, I’ll introduce you! We can all be best friends!”

“How do you know it’s a she?” Virgil asks, voice a mere rasp.

“I told you! Our souls are connected!”

Virgil lets out a laugh at that, chest heaving and twinging with pain but he doesn’t mind. It feels good to laugh. He never seems to laugh anymore.

Dr. Hyun left at one point, forcibly ushered out by Logan, she’ll be back. Everyone else sits on the floor, backs pressed up against the wall furthest from Virgil. He’s grateful for the space, needs it to think. Logan is watching him, calculate stare following him as always.

“Do you feel better now?” Roman asks.

Virgil nods, pulling away from Patton, folding his arms against his chest, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious. He just had a panic attack in front of all those people. And for such a stupid reason! He thought he’d reached the point where Henry didn’t matter anymore, he couldn’t affect Virgil in any way. But here he is, panicking every time someone even mentions the guy.

Silvia still looks confused, one eyebrow raised at him, lips quirked up in a friendly smile. “So am I allowed to ask about what just happened or is it one of those things we all just ignore and mind our own business until we’re ready to talk about it?”

Virgil bites at his bottom lip, tearing off the dry skin on top. “I… I can’t right now. Just… my dad is a piece of shit, that’s all you need to know.”

“Got it, I am not yet a high enough level friend. Well don’t you worry, Virg, I’m gonna max out all the levels,” Silvia says and she makes it sound so simple, so easy. As if opening up to people isn’t the hardest thing in the world for him, he doesn’t send chills up his spine just at the thought. Though he supposes he’s been doing pretty well lately. Actually told his soulmates how Henry left. (Actually been calling them his soulmates in his head. When did he start doing that?)

With a grunt, Silvia jumps to her feet, tripping over her feet as she stumbles over to the corner with a giggle. She begins rummaging through several bags that Virgil has somehow not noticed before now. She pulls out a little grey metal box and hides into her back, eyes swimming with mischief.

She steps closer, draping her body across the foot of the bed without a second thought. She spends a long moment making herself comfortable, stretching out curling her legs up under her. Eventually, she stops, looking back over at him with… not pity. Virgil knows pity, hates it with every fiber of his being and is always looking for that familiar expression. But this… this is something far more gentle. Something kind.

Silvia pauses for a moment before reaching an arm outward, giving him a soft pat on the shoulder. “You don’t have to talk about it unless you’re ready, not ever. I’m sorry though, that sucks. My dad is an asshole too, total bigot. Doesn’t like Greg just because he was born a girl.” She doesn’t pull away for a long minute, her hand on his shoulder, the two of them just staring at each other. In that moment, there’s a strange enlightenment of understanding, the type only those with fucked-up families can ever really share.

Then she’s smiling and leaning back. “Now moving on from that dreary conversation, I wanna show you something,” she says, placing the little box back on her lap. “Roman, do me a favor and close the blinds, will ya? And Patton, turn off the light. Won’t work otherwise.”

Roman head tilts to the side, a clear expression of his confusion but he gets up and does it anyway, pulling the fabric with scree sound. Patton gives a goofy smile but doesn’t question Siliva, instead learning forwards to flick the switch off. The five of them are left in semi-darkness, the monitors and other electronics still on and giving off vague light.

Siliva begins fidgeting with the box, turning it over. “My sister, Claudia has really bad anxiety, like the kind where doing just about anything is super hard for her. But this tends to help her,” she says and then Virgil hears a little click.

Golden light explodes out from the box.

But it isn’t just any light, it takes form, shape, becomes something more than just a way to see. Before Virgil knows it, the room isn’t just a room anymore. Thousands of little stars and planets litter the room, dancing across the walls, shining oh so bright.

Suddenly, Virgil is in space.

“Do you like it?” Siliva asks softly.

All Virgil can do it nod.

Yes. _Yes._

He more than likes it.

It’s sort of indescribable.

People don’t do this sort of thing for him.

He’s nothing.

But everyone is staring at him, stars flowing over their skin, staring at him as if he’s something precious, something to loved and valued. Silvia went out of her way to do something so kind and for him? For him. Doesn’t sound right, letters don’t seem to mix together like they should.

Siliva remembered something about her sister, a person she loves and genuinely connected it to Virgil. She chose to help him, just out of the kindness of her heart. Help him. Him of all people. And Virgil gets the feeling that this is something sacred, something she’s only done for her sister, shared with her family.

Her eyes shine brighter than the light. “I don’t know if you remember this but a little while ago you totally saved my ass and took over my shift cause Claudia got in an accident. Poor thing was terrified so the two of us just sat in her hospital room in the dark with this,” she says gesturing to the box, to the lights around them. “We watched for hours. And she felt a lot better after.”

Virgil’s eyes sting, throat tickling so he clears it. “Thank you.” He hopes he’s not too obvious but by the way Siliva is staring, he thinks he is. Oddly enough Virgil doesn’t think he minds, her expression isn’t judgemental, just… soft.

It’s quiet, but not an overwhelming suffocating type like it normally would be. It feels nice, a welcome emptiness, something that doesn’t need to be filled with lots of noise or shouting. He’s good with this, he thinks they all are.

At some point, Virgil isn’t quite sure when, Patton and Roman join him and Silvia on the bed. Roman lays sprawled out next to Silvia, squishing her, earning many complaints before she gives up with a huff, elbowing him once in the ribs.

But his knee is pressed up against Virgil’s, a sort of way of saying “I am here.” Virgil will never say it out loud, Roman’s ego is already too big but he likes it, likes feeling him near.

Patton is resting right against Virgil’s side, sharing the many pillows that appeared sometime after he fell asleep when Logan had read to him. It’s not too much contact, just enough while still letting Virgil feel free, able to breathe and escape if need be.

Logan is on Virgil’s other side, there wasn't enough room on the bed and Silvia refused to move. So he sits in a green armchair decorated with white polka dots. Earlier, he’d moved it impossibly close to the bed, literally rubbing up against the mattress, his elbow gently knocking against Virgil’s hip with every little movement.

Virgil thinks this is the closest he’s ever felt to peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Few things to say today. 
> 
> 1\. I've updated the total chapters from 20 to 22. I really thought it was only gonna be twenty but everything I had planned wasn't working in that short of a time. Sorry. 
> 
> 2\. Say, if I were to possibly already be planning my next sanders sides fic after this, what ship would you prefer to see? I'm leaning a bit towards either Prinxiety or Loxiety but I'm open to any of the ships.

**Author's Note:**

> What do you guys think? Is it as bad as I think? Worse?


End file.
